


Broken {After The Fall}

by kasviel



Category: Amnesia: The Dark Descent
Genre: Angst, Discipline, M/M, Romance, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24195184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasviel/pseuds/kasviel
Summary: The aftermath of one of Amnesia's endings. Daniel has conquered Alexander of Brennenburg and his own demons, or so he believes. But what does London hold for such a fallen, broken man? Is a chance meeting with an old enemy truly the opportunity for reconciliation that it promises, or are more sinister forces at work? Still shattered from his time in Prussia, Daniel struggles to find a foothold in the world he once felt he could belong in.
Relationships: Alexander of Brennenburg/Daniel, Henry Bedloe & Daniel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

September 8, 1839  
  
To all that had known him, the man who set foot in London that day beneath the smudges of orange foliage and smoggy sky would be unrecognizable. Though he was just twenty-four years of age, dark circles beneath his eyes and the hollowness of weight loss had aged him considerably. He bore only two cases and a carpet bag, and his Eastern European clothing were hastily tailored and peasant-plain. His brown hair was unfashionably long and tied back sloppily, wispy tendrils escaping to frame his pale face; there were streaks of pure white running through it despite his young age. His eyes looked larger now that his face had slimmed, and they seemed to gaze through the lively city to darker realms around shadowy corners. He exited the carriage and gave payment for the ride without once meeting the driver's gaze.  
Daniel had spent less than a month in the isolated Prussian castle of Brennenburg, but the period had altered his entire lifetime. Even now that he was finally home, he felt at odds with the world outside that crumbling old castle's walls. The daylight stunned his eyes when it was at its full strength, and the air never smelled quite right. The woods and quaint towns of Prussia had been too clean, too pure. Now, London sprawled out before him busy and dirty, and he found its tangibility deceiving. He wondered, where were the veins pulsing with dark secrets? He had flowed through those strange passageways, he knew they were there to be found if one peeled away this diaphanous skin of reality. Science and industry crawled over that skin now all around him, flea-like, and he found himself nauseous. Quickly, he made for his rooms.  
His apartment was wrecked, but Daniel could not bring himself to muster anything more than sad tolerance. He threw off his coat and boots, set his suitcase down, and set to work in stocking feet. The activity was good, it kept him from being too bothered by how even his personal rooms felt foreign.  
Was it because of the Amnesia Mixture? As he apathetically gathered ruined possessions together for the trash, Daniel pondered his strange state of mind. Over the course of escaping Brennenburg he had regained much of his memories. True, they existed as if behind a fog, but weren't memories always like that? Was it even really the Amnesia formula causing this separation of his old and new selves? Or was that wishful thinking? Surely, it was more pleasing to think of his current self as totally separate from the man he had been, the man who had been led to commit so many vile atrocities in that void-blasted castle …  
Daniel's hands shook violently and he dropped the vase he had been picking up. It had been left tipped but unbroken, and now it shattered on the floor. He stared at the porcelain fragments slicing the corpses of long dead roses, and felt nothing. Walking like a hybrid of a dead man and a trained animal, he fetched the bottle of laudanum from his suitcase and drank deeply from it. Soon, he would need to find a new doctor ( _Doctor Tate is dead, like the rest of them_ , he thought numbly) and procure himself more. For now, he would get his rooms into livable condition, and then it would be straight to the pub.

* * *

  
It was evening by the time Daniel had his rooms marginally restored and fresh necessities bought. He drew himself a bath and changed into evening clothes from his wardrobe (untouched by the chaos). The clothes hung loosely on his gaunt frame. Looking in the mirror, he remembered distinctly the young man he had been before Algeria: an archaeologist enraptured by dreams of finding fame and fortune and adventure, romanced by the exotic tales pouring into the British Museum from all over the world. For a moment, lifting his face to the reflection, he looked like his former self again. Then the shadows, emotional and physical, sharpened his features. He was wasted and withdrawn. He knew now that the world was no different from school, from home, from anywhere: it was dark and promised only pain.  
There was a flicker of sorrow in his breast then, a distinct jolt of mourning. Could one mourn oneself? He had to turn away from the mirror. It would be best to go out and find himself a drink now. Pity there was only enough laudanum left to get him to sleep tonight.  
On the street, Daniel soon found himself lost. He knew the streets, he knew his former haunts, but he was reticent to visit them lest he run into a familiar face. He could not stomach the idea of socializing just yet; he hardly remembered or cared to remember former acquaintances. Besides, what could he really say? That he had gone to Africa, taken ill, and recovered somewhere far away? Trite enough lies to cover his ordeal, yet he found the idea of uttering them distasteful. Lies reminded him too sharply of Alexander's deceit. He found himself very sensitive to falling into that man's ways since leaving Brennenburg.  
At last, past some winding alleys and quite farther than he had intended to go, Daniel found a place to drink. He had never been inside this place before, it was the sort of shabby haunt he would have looked down on once. Tonight this was a blessing, as no one would know him there. He was dressed plainly, and the bite of severity Brennenburg had etched into his face made him fit in with the other embittered drunks. The regulars hardly gave him an eye, obviously deciding he was another youth fallen from the middle class or wherever, just one more failure swallowed by the city. Daniel might have once been offended by being seen this way, but now he was only grateful for the anonymity. He drank gin steadily at a table alone.  
 _Who am I now?_ Daniel wondered as the liquor cut through his mental fog. He stared into his glass at the shadowy reflection of his face. As he had shopped in London earlier his sense of home had begun to return, along with more memories. All of it was for naught. He was no longer that ambitious young man. He was no longer the 'Daniel' that had walked these streets. So, who was he? Who was he now?  
 _I have nothing to show for my travels, and the thought of archaeology makes me quiver with fright_ , Daniel thought. His hand shook and he grasped the glass firmly in both hands. _More tombs! This whole world was built upon the bones of other worlds, corpses not yet quite dead. The thought of finding another half-dead dreaming thing like Alexander—or, God forbid, another Orb—fills me with terror! No, I'm done uncovering those secrets. The past should die, and if it cannot, then at least let it be buried! Let it stay buried! I won't be the one to uncover it._  
Daniel sighed and leaned his head on a hand. The darkness in his eyes deepened. The talk in the pub hit a lull. The liquor began to unchain his thoughts.  
 _And yet … I cannot fully make peace with the secrets I have already uncovered. In my dreams, I sometimes still see that blue light shining in the distance, and I want to reach for it. I've even heard Alexander's voice calling to me, and I have wanted to listen. Only the screams of the people I've murdered hold those sickening temptations at bay. Is it only my fancy that's tempted? Or is my mind still so diseased as to be drawn to the darkness? I purged the Shadow from my life, as I purged Alexander from this world. Why does my mind insist upon tormenting me so? Will I ever be truly free?_  
Daniel drank rapidly, aching for the oblivion of drunkenness. The dreams were not the nightmares of old. He was no longer being hunted. No, these dreams were more insidious simply for the fact that they were less frightening. He was curious in these dreams. It was the same curiosity that had kept the Orb in his hands, that had led him to Brennenburg. Even in committing unspeakable acts of torture, many a time that evil curiosity had kept his hand steady, his eyes keen.  
Screams boiled up inside Daniel—his own or the memory of his victims', he could not tell. He drowned them in gin. He wondered which he would do tonight in bed, cry or laugh. The extremity of his mental torture sometimes struck him as remarkably funny. _Whichever, it doesn't matter_ , Daniel thought. _Just so long as I don't do either in public._  
It was not a promise he would be able to keep that night.

** End of Chapter One **


	2. Chapter 2

September 9, 1839  
  
When he awoke the next morning, Daniel knew that he was not at home. He glimpsed sunlight streaming in through a high window in a stone wall, and he thought that he was back at Brennenburg. The Baron had not turned out to be a murderer and he had not been dragged into a hell of pain and death, after all. Alexander would help him with whatever strange properties the Orb had. There must be a proper explanation for the phenomenon. It was an enlightened age and a sane world; how silly to have dreamt of such bizarre atrocities!  
The warm fantasies soon passed. There were voices around, hushed and British. This was not the austere quiet of Brennenburg. This was not Prussia. The nightmares were the reality, and sanity only a dream. Daniel shut his eyes again, and tried desperately to return to slumber.  
When he awoke again, he heard voices nearby. He felt that he lay in a bed, utilitarian and not very comfortable. Opening his eyes, he beheld an old building with that high window set in the wall on his left. He turned his face and saw rows of identical beds on his other side. There were muffled coughs and a smell of sick more animal than human. This must be a hospital. Had something happened to him?  
Someone was calling his name and he looked up. A nurse fetched a doctor, who in turn fetched another professional man. The first doctor explained his situation to him, while the second lingered behind him, turned to the window, face obscured by the sunlight.  
The truth turned out to be embarrassing and mundane. Daniel had drunken himself into a stupor the past night and had gotten lost on his way home. His memory was not as trustworthy as he had thought, apparently. In the daze he had behaved so peculiarly, at once terrified and menacing, that he had been beaten bloody by a passerby. This man was not a common thug, he claimed that Daniel had frightened his wife terribly, and he had the decency to drop Daniel at this hospital. Daniel was merely amused, though his face ached and he felt a rib had broken. He apologized heartily to the doctor and promised to pay the bill for his treatment. He was about to get out of the dingy bed to leave, when the doctor stopped him with a polite but firm hand on the shoulder. Daniel looked at him curiously. What on earth more could he want?  
"With all due respect, sir, your behavior was quite abnormal all through the night," the doctor said. "There were, er, certain things you spoke of, and … tried to do … that were quite, er, quite frightening."  
A jolt of fear went through Daniel. Had he spoken of Brennenburg? Oh Lord, what if he had talked about killing people? Was the other man from the police?  
"That is why I took the liberty of calling in a colleague of mine to speak with you," the doctor said brightly. He motioned to the other man, who came from the window to Daniel's bedside. "This is my good friend and an alienist of no little ability, Dr. Bedloe."  
It was not so uncommon a name. For a moment as Daniel looked up at the man, he thought: it had to be a coincidence. Surely the tall, good-looking, dark-haired man little resembled the stout unruly school bully of Daniel's childhood. The man wore fine clothing of excellent cut, his black hair was neat, and he kept a respectably trim beard and mustache.  
The man paused just before extending a hand to Daniel. Recognition was alight in his eyes. In that instant, Daniel knew the name 'Bedloe' was no coincidence: this was the school bully that had haunted his nightmares long before Alexander or the Shadow. Daniel's heart skipped a beat and then began to race. Old, childish panic flooded him, and he felt a cold sweat chill his skin. What could he do but take his hand, however?  
As they shook hands, Daniel began to recognize his old tormentor. Though no longer stout, Daniel could see a powerful figure barely constrained by the sophisticated tailoring of the man's dark suit. There was nothing to conceal the strength in his handshake, though, or the way his large hand swallowed Daniel's thin one. More than anything, Daniel remembered his eyes: they were blue, despite his otherwise swarthy coloring, a light arctic blue. Blue as ice. Blue, like that light … the Orb's light … Funny, Daniel had never made the connection before, but he could swear Henry's eyes were of a color that shone from the Orb. Was this the color of cruelty then?  
"An alienist, did you say?" Daniel asked. Trying not to cringe, he withdrew his hand from Henry Bedloe's. "I admit to having been in a shameful state of drunkenness, but I assure you, I am not in need of a psychiatrist. I recently recovered from a fever contracted in Africa, you see. Forgive me, but it is my body that has caused whatever state I was in last night, not any-any frailty of the mind."  
"I thought you might want to speak with a professional," the doctor tried to persuade him. "Just to be certain, you know. You were awfully upset, and spoke of dreadful things."  
Daniel shuddered to think of what he might have let slip. The poor doctor looked disturbed by him. Damn the gin! Damn it all! He had to remember that he was home now, and if he wanted to stay here he would have to carefully guard his image. He was used to the solitude of Brennenburg where whatever his suffering, at least he did not have to suffer the petty concerns of civility.  
"I've suffered from nightmares for a time, Doctor," Daniel appealed to the man. "I am an archaeologist, and I am afraid that some of the savage practices of primordial times have played upon my imagination. As I said, I am recently returned from a disastrous trip to Africa, and a venture into Europe, as well. The fever's effects have not entirely left me, either. Please. I apologize for startling anyone, but I assure you, I am in no need of a psychiatrist."  
Daniel was only barely managing to keep his composure due to the agony Bedloe's presence caused him. Was fate out to utterly destroy him? How in the world could Bedloe be here, now? It was ridiculous that after all he had been through Daniel was still terrified of the boy, but he was. No, that was wrong, Henry was no longer a boy, he was a man. He was a man now, and oh, the horrors men were capable of …   
"If the man says he is mentally fit, then who are we not to take him at his word?" Bedloe spoke for the first time. His voice was deep, intelligent but for a hint of gruffness. His intense blue eyes were fixed on Daniel, but he managed to give him an affable smile. He said nothing of recognizing him. Had Daniel only imagined that look in his eyes? "Here, in case you do ever feel in need of my services, take my card."  
Daniel took it, trying to remain impassive. Bedloe looked at him with an unreadable expression that jarred him, but it passed in an instant. He bid them both good day, and left. It took Daniel little time to get fully dressed and out of the hospital bed. Was it over?  
Naturally, it was not. He was accosted by Henry Bedloe just outside the hospital. Bedloe still had that affable smile on his face, but those blue eyes never lost their chill.  
"I thought that was you, Daniel," the man said. "My God, but it's been ages! Don't you remember me? Bedloe? Henry Bedloe, from school?"  
"Of course I remember you," Daniel said softly. Did Bedloe remember him clearly? One of the last times they had seen each other, Daniel had bashed him brutally with a rock. Why was he acting so bloody cheerful?   
"Good, good," Bedloe said. "I thought that was you, you've hardly changed. Still rather a scrawny thing, aren't you?"  
Daniel bristled inwardly, feeling small indeed beside the overbearing other man. He wanted to be gone from this man's side, but he could think of no polite way to quickly escape.  
"I've been sick," Daniel said defensively. "The fever in Africa."  
"Ah, of course, of course, my apologies," Bedloe said insincerely. He sobered, putting a hand on Daniel's shoulder. "I am sorry for being so insistent, but I stayed to ask: are you really all right? You seem to have given everyone in the vicinity one hell of a fright."  
"It was a stupid mistake to drink so much on my first night back," Daniel said. "It won't happen again, believe me."  
 _I'll make sure to do my drinking in the privacy of my own home, from now on_ , he added mentally.   
"In any case, I'm certainly not in need of your services," Daniel said, "Henry."  
"Are you in need of a friend?"  
Daniel blinked up at him in surprise. They stopped walking at the gates to the hospital premises. Standing before him, Daniel was stricken by the difference in height. Bedloe had always been one of the bigger boys in school, but he had grown well past six feet since then. Daniel was not short, but he was not particularly tall, either. He felt like a bullied boy again, and was vexed at Bedloe's reappearance in his life. The streak of violence he had been trying to stifle since Brennenburg reared its ugly head. He wanted this man gone, gone, even if it took killing him! _He was bad back in school, anyway, wasn't he? Isn't that right, Alexander? He deserves it!_  
"Daniel?" Bedloe's hand tightened on his shoulder, and his face leaned down closer. "Are you all right, man? You look peaked."  
"What? Oh, it's … nothing." Daniel scrubbed a hand over his face. "If you'll excuse me, I'm quite exhausted. I must be getting home from—Where is this, again?"  
Henry told him, but Daniel did not move. His mind was drawing a blank as to how to get home. Bedloe did not leave his side. Daniel almost laughed at how immutable the force of his presence was.  
"Where are you headed?" Henry asked. "I'm going further into town. We might catch a cab together."  
That was the last thing Daniel wanted, but demurring would only cause more suspicion to form in those strange blue eyes. He told Bedloe his street, though not his address. Whether it was the truth or not, Bedloe claimed he was headed for the same area. Before long, they were in a hansom cab together. Daniel felt sick from the night of drinking, and his temper was wearing thin. Finally, he blurted out what was bothering him.  
"I don't see why you'd offer me friendship," he said. "We were never friends. You hurt me. Over and over and over again. And the last time we fought, I bashed your head with a rock. Don't you remember any of that?"  
"Naturally, but we were only children." Henry pushed his hat up and moved some hair aside. There was a jagged old scar just above his temple. "That was you, Daniel."  
Daniel felt satisfaction, then guilt, then fear. Henry laughed, putting his hat and hair back in place. Was that a flash of anger just then? No, it was a trick of the dappled autumn light shining in through the coach's windows. Nonetheless, Daniel thanked the God he knew did not exist that he had not given Henry his address.  
"I'm not sure if I ever scarred you, but I earned that mark," Henry said. "I know I hurt you. I haven't forgotten. But we were only children. I didn't think you would still be carrying a grudge, after all these years."  
"No, of course not," Daniel said loftily. He gave a short, forced laugh. "That would be silly."  
"Quite."  
 _Is that really how he sees it? How the world would see it? I guess it is_ , Daniel thought. He moved the curtain over the window aside, watching the city go by. _That's right. Why did it bother me so much? Lots of boys are bullied. It wasn't torture. My father hurt me more than Henry ever did. Why have I harbored such a grudge against him? And why in the world would I still be afraid of him? We're adults now, grown men in a civilized world. There's no reason to fear violence from him anymore. He's a doctor, for the love of God!_  
"A psychiatrist," Daniel said slowly. "I beg your pardon, Henry, but it's not what I expected of you."  
"Is it that unthinkable?" Henry mused, stroking his beard. He waved a hand once. "Well, I suppose it would seem so, to someone who hasn't seen me since childhood. I was an angry, taciturn child, and I had no interest in sharpening my intellect. But then my mother and I moved, and I was past childhood soon after. As I grew up, I began to question my nature. It alienated me, you see, and caused me to devolve into a near criminal. Who could I blame? Certainly my mother, and circumstance, and other things, other people. Yet at the end of the day, it was always my mind that betrayed me most grievously. It was my mind that broke under the weight of my anger, and betrayed me into allowing me to act like a filthy savage. But the mind is not an enemy to be beaten down, you cannot lay hands upon it. I felt very helpless when I realized those things. It was only at university, when I began to hear about certain studies of the brain and its workings, that I began to have hope."  
Despite himself, Daniel was intrigued by the story. After all, he knew what it was to be betrayed by one's own mind.  
"So, you took that battle up,then?" he asked. "You decided to fight the flaws of the very mind itself?"  
"You make it sound noble, but it was purely out of self-interest, I assure you," Henry laughed. "But yes, I suppose one could say that I did take up the war against the diseases of the mind. Once a man conquers his mind, he has conquered himself, and no battle is more important. I cannot say that I have completely mastered my mind, but I know it, I can make it obey my will. That is true freedom, Daniel."  
"I see.”  
Daniel wistfully wondered how such freedom would feel. He would be happy enough just to get rid of his damned nightmares. Perhaps he should talk to Henry, or any psychiatrist, to see if they really could offer him ways to tame his wildly dreaming mind.  
"You do look troubled, Daniel," Henry said. "I hope you will reconsider and speak with me. It does not have to be professionally. I would listen as a mere friend."  
"Why?"  
Henry smiled a little, stared out the window. Daniel did not know what to make of him. He wanted to hate him, but he was afraid of his darkest emotions these days.   
"Perhaps I, too, have my own grudge from childhood." Henry turned back to Daniel. "Not against you, but against myself. The mind always does have its surprises. I had thought my childhood was done and conquered, but seeing you this morning woke something in me. I was reminded of my old self. Perhaps I always regretted not having the chance to atone for the cruel child that I was. Perhaps this is my chance for that. Is that terribly self-serving, Daniel?"  
"No," Daniel said distantly. He stared at his hands, so much smaller than Henry's yet stained with so much more blood. He clenched them and turned his face to the window. He swallowed hard. "No, there's nothing wrong with that."  
They soon stopped on Daniel's street. Henry Bedloe reminded him of the card he had given him, and told him the name of his usual social club and the pub where he drank at evening. He bid Daniel good day, and continued on with the carriage to a further part of the city. Daniel returned home alone.  
The building was oddly quiet, Daniel noted. Even the last evening had been devoid of the usual murmur from other apartments. Had several tenants moved out at once? Was it because of whatever had happened to his rooms while he was gone? Was that why the building manager kept giving him such queer looks, and hardly dared speak to him for more than a minute at a time? The Shadow was gone, but its stains had yet to be cleansed.  
Daniel did not remain home long. His head ached viciously, and his nerves were beginning to fray. He decided that he would fetch laudanum at the druggist's himself, instead of bothering to go through a doctor. He would need a lot. Eventually, he would have to return to some form of work, if he wanted to stay fed, sheltered, and sedated. He had time and credit to his name still, however, and so he put off thinking about that for the time being.

* * *

  
Days went by, and Daniel did not leave his rooms. He ate lightly of bread, cheese, and other food he had stocked up on. He drank heavily, and more heavily still of laudanum. Both the alcohol and the drug were beginning to lose their effects on him. The rooms felt claustrophobic, but he could not bring himself to face the looming bright sky outside. He feared darkness, but now he was horrified to find that he also feared being in the light.   
"No. No. I don't fear it," Daniel muttered to himself this morning. He was still in his bed gown and bare feet, drawn and pale, his overgrown brown hair unkempt. "I don't fear the light! I just don't like it. It isn't good enough. In my dreams, I see the blue light, ever the blue light, and that's the light I want."  
Daniel paced, wringing his hands, running them through his hair. Outside, he heard the patter of rainfall. Inside, there were only his murmurings and the creak of his feet on the floorboards. Now he knew why the building was always so quiet: all the apartments adjacent to his own were cleared out. The stigma would fade, he knew, but for now, he liked the privacy, he liked the silence—his thoughts were noisy enough!  
"No, I don't want it!" he cried. He shook his head, sinking onto the sofa. "I don't want that Orb's light! I want nothing to do with it, I never did! I never really did! It isn't fair, I didn't ask for this! I banished it all! I destroyed it all! Why won't any of it leave me? Why won't those diseased other worlds let me go? Please, let me go! Just let me go. Leave me be in peace, to live or die here in my home. Please, leave me be already."  
Daniel almost thought he could hear Alexander's voice sneering at him from the back of his mind: _'Oh, Daniel, how pitiful you sound for the man who destroyed me. Pitiful, and familiar. How familiar you sound, Daniel.'_  
Daniel knew where the familiarity came from: his keening and whining was as pathetically wretched as that of their victims. He spent his days and nights writhing and moaning on the bed, the floor, the sofa, as so many had done in their cells. Daniel had once sneered at the prisoners of Brennenburg for breaking, for not facing their fate with dignity. As if there could be any dignity in dumb, pointless, cruel suffering!  
 _'Yet what right do_ you _have to beg and cry so, Daniel?'_ Alexander's voice in his mind asked. _'After all the pain you gave to those people, you have been gifted with this triumphant return home. You live in clean cloth and firelit warmth, not excremental dungeon squalor. You await—what? Nightmares, Daniel? Dreams of worlds your mind is too small to encompass? Trying, I'm sure, but hardly the breathless terror of awaiting the Wheel, the Maiden, the Bull, the Cradle, or the lash.'_  
Daniel was shamed into silence and stillness by the voice in his head. Alexander had always been bitingly insightful, and his dry deep voice condescended without the sympathy he had once affected. What he said was true, but that only made Daniel's fear worse. How clear the voice was! Every day it grew clearer, stronger, and spoke to him more frequently. If he had not seen Alexander devoured by the Shadow …   
_'Do you think beings such as I die so easily, Daniel? Well? There are such circles as make Hell a pleasant existence, for those who cannot cease to exist.'_  
"No, no, no!" Daniel cried. He swept to his feet again, pacing furiously around his apartment. "No, you're dead, you're not real, you died, you can't be here, you're dead, you're not real, you died—you died! You died, you died, you died!"  
Daniel had been repeating this mantra in a sort of singsong over the past few days, but it made no difference. Alexander laughed inside the walls of his skull. He felt invaded, as if by a disease, and dirtied—so very unclean. He had thought that Brennenburg had been his purgatory, and that escaping it had cleansed him of his sins. He had been wrong, so very wrong. He was no longer fit for this world.  
 _Then what was the point?_ Daniel wondered. He wandered listlessly into his bedroom, and picked up the bottle of laudanum from the bedside table. He stared at it, then at the bed. He wanted to sleep. He hated to yearn for that other world, for that blue light, but the dreams were easier than waking life. When he was lucky, he could pass hours in pure unconsciousness, neither living nor dreaming at all. _What was the point of fighting so hard? Why didn't I just let myself die at Brennenburg?_  
But he already knew the answer. As fearful as he was of the world now, he had been doubly fearful of the Shadow hunting him. He had survived simply because of the terror of death, and the conceit of revenge against Alexander. Now, no void-touched horror was at his back, driving him to run forward to survival, nor was there a goal to busy himself trying to achieve. There was now everything to fear from the world, and nothing to fear from sleep. That realization bothered him. He set the laudanum bottle down.  
"No. No, I can't, I can't accept that."   
Daniel sank to the floor, gripping his head in his hands. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room, and wept at what he had been reduced to. His body felt like a brittle shell, barely able to protect the soul trembling raw inside it. He had trembled so as a child: on the floor of his home beneath the blows of his father, and on the schoolyard ground beneath the blows of Bedloe's fists.  
Bedloe …   
Daniel took his coat from the coat tree, and dug around in the pockets. Henry Bedloe's business card was weighty and smooth in his hand. God, what an awful, mean-spirited child Henry Bedloe had been! Yet he had seemed remorseful over his past flaws, and erudite concerning the nature of the mind. He had sounded greatly concerned about Daniel, almost caring. Could a man really change on such a fundamental level? Daniel knew that was possible; after all, he had changed fundamentally at Brennenburg, for the worst. But could a man change himself? Bedloe had not spoken of any guiding force having changed him, as Alexander had changed Daniel, but of mastering himself through mastery of the mind. If Henry Bedloe had really done that, if he really knew how to, then perhaps all was not lost. Perhaps he could teach Daniel how to do so, as well.  
 _'You're doing it again, Daniel,'_ Alexander's fictional voice rang inside Daniel's mind.  
"Doing what?" Daniel answered the voice thoughtlessly. There was no response, and for once this was more an annoyance than a relief. "What am I doing?"  
There was silence in his mind. Daniel realized that was for the best, and forgot about it. He should dress and go get himself a haircut and a shave. It was raining and the sky was dressed in a shroud of gray, so he would not have to face so much light. Best to go out now, then, while he had the nerve.   
  


**End of Chapter Two**


	3. Chapter 3

September 24, 1839  
  
There was naught but rain that September in England. It poured, then drizzled, and then cascaded down in torrents. This evening, the sky went black early on, and the water pelted down in sheets. A rumble of thunder could be heard, but there was as yet no lightning. The drops were cold and unforgiving, the death knell of the summer season.  
Daniel had been seeing Henry Bedloe for therapy sessions. He could not see the benefit of these sessions yet, as they seemed to consist of nothing more than talking, but the routine of attending them set his life in motion. Naturally, he did not speak of what he had endured since his journey to Africa, but even disclosing more mundane secrets was comforting. He realized just how alone he had been, having no one to speak with about his life at all. The sessions were easy to attend, and they did not bring the pressure to appear normal that social conversation did.  
For his part, Henry Bedloe really did seem to have undergone a miraculous change. His former taciturnity had matured into an attentive quietness that made him easy to speak at length to. He maintained interest in Daniel's words, but he did not affect sympathy or pity, which would have put Daniel on guard after Alexander's false kindness. There were times when Daniel wanted a more definite opinion from the man, but Henry explained that the role of a therapist was not to judge a patient, but to guide them along into judging their own actions and thoughts. That was quite a vague intention, Daniel thought, but he was content to go along with it for the time being. It was good to have someone who would just listen to him again; no one ever had since his sister Hazel, and he could never confide his harrowing secrets to the delicate girl.  
Tonight, Daniel joined Henry Bedloe at a social club for dinner and drinks, as friends rather than doctor and patient. However, Daniel was sullen and quiet, and drank far more than he ate. He could feel Henry's blue eyes studying him, but tonight he really could not give a damn.  
"So, what is the matter, man?" Henry finally asked. In therapy, he usually let Daniel's moods play out on their own, but he was bolder when socializing.   
"I'd rather not talk about it."  
"If you preferred not to talk, you would have not joined me here," Henry pointed out. He lit one of the foreign cigars he was so fond of. A murky, leathery smoke filled the air between them. "You've canceled dinner arrangements before."  
"I told you, the nightmares, I haven't been sleeping very well. And all this rain, it's given me a fever lately."  
"You needn't explain yourself to me, Daniel," Henry said with a hint of patronization. “I wasn't holding you to account for it.”  
"I know that," Daniel retorted testily.  
Henry waited, eyes coolly on Daniel's. The cigar burrowed into his thick black beard, then left it, trailing that exotic smoke in its wake. It was unnerving how the blue of his eyes cut through everything: all the dark cigar smoke, all the black hair framing his face. His eyes had smoldered with rage as a child, but it had been an honest, pure rage. Daniel was beginning to think those eyes were more frightening now that they had iced over with knowledge and cunning.  
"The problem is with my sister, Hazel," Daniel confessed. "I suppose you wouldn't remember her, she was too ill to go to school."  
"I might have seen her with you in town, once or twice," Henry said. His fierce brows creased in thought. "Slim girl. Pale. She had the same brown hair as yours, a bit lighter. Lovely, but—"  
Henry stopped himself.  
"Yes, but lovely as those touched by death, I know," Daniel said. He drank from his glass of gin. "She is much like a beautiful corpse: pristine, unchanging, beautiful. Yet she is not a corpse, she still lives. No one expected her to, but she lives."  
"Well, what ever is the problem with her, then?"  
"She is sixteen, and a woman. She is—" Daniel paused for a very long drink. Bitterness spilled over his features as he slammed the glass down on the table. "She says that she is a woman in love."  
"Good God, Daniel, why should that be a bad thing?" chuckled Henry. "I'd have thought she had contracted the Black Death from your face. What on earth is wrong with your sister being in love?"  
"She is engaged to be married! Don't you understand what that means?" Daniel stressed. "Do you know what it would mean for such an innocent, fragile, sheltered, unspoiled girl such as Hazel to be handed off to some man?"  
"Really, Daniel, she is hardly a girl any longer," Henry reasoned. "Sixteen is quite old enough, especially given her condition. Why, she is fortunate to have found love early, given that her future is so uncertain, don't you think?"  
"That's what she said," Daniel said bitterly. "But neither of you have given any thought to how she might be hurt by this. She's so very young, her being ill does not change that, and she is … she is fine as she is, more than fine, she is perfect, unspoiled. There are so few things that are in this despicable world. Why would she ruin it?"  
"People have ruined greater things for pettier loves, I'm sure."  
"It won't be worth it," Daniel insisted. "How do we know this man of hers isn't simply out to-to use a sick woman for a few years before she dies? How do we know he isn't taking advantage of her desperation and loneliness?"  
"You must trust your sister's trust of him, Daniel," Henry said. "At least respect her enough to believe she has picked a good man."  
"He's a butcher," Daniel scowled. "His family kills for their money. Blood on him, I'll bet, blood on him always."  
As he said this, Daniel's eyes went to his own hands. He scrubbed a thumb over the knuckles so hard they turned red. Henry watched out of the corner of his eyes.  
"It's an honest profession," Henry pointed out. "And a stalwart man like that must not be squeamish about Hazel's illness."  
Daniel glowered into his glass.   
"Have you even met this fellow yet?" Henry asked. "Do you even know his name?"  
"Mandus. Xavier Mandus."  
"Of the Mandus Meat Processing family?" Henry asked. Daniel nodded and Henry laughed at him. "Dear God, man, you made him sound like a man in a meat shop, or some bloodied servant of an abattoir! The Mandus family owns many shops, and I hear that they intend to modernize their business quite soon. They're very wealthy, Daniel. Your sister will have the best care, and she will want for nothing."  
"Who cares?" Daniel muttered sullenly. "There's not enough money in the world to pay for what my sister will be losing."  
"Daniel, are you jealous?"  
"What?" Daniel asked, startled. "What on earth do you mean by that?"  
"Don't misunderstand me, I did not mean sexually," Henry said. He noticed a distinct shift of Daniel's eyes when he spoke the last word. "I meant, are you jealous of her love for this Mandus? Seeing you two together as children, I recall that you two gave the distinct impression of only having each other."  
"You remember that much?" Daniel asked. "Yes, that is how it was. Our mother might as well have not existed, for all she ever did. Whatever spark of personal life she might have once had was eclipsed—no, entirely snuffed out—by our father. She lived as a kind of cooking, cleaning ghost. As for our father, well, I'm sure you could tell the sort of man he was. Everyone in the neighborhood knew."  
Henry was quiet for a beat, and something flickered in his blue eyes. W _as that anger? Is he angry on my behalf?_ Daniel wondered. _That would be ironic, given the fact that he caused me nearly as much suffering as my father did._  
"Yes, I remember the sort he was," Henry said briefly. He waved his hand, the cigar in it swirling fresh smoke around their faces. "So, you only had Hazel's affection, yes? And she only had yours?"  
"Quite right. But we made our way like that, together," Daniel said. "We didn't need anyone, or anything, else. We were happy when we were together, only then."  
"But she's happy now, without you, for a reason that has nothing to do with you," Henry surmised. "Someone else has given her happiness, and a happiness that a brother could never give her, at that. Your pride is wounded. On top of that, her love does not belong solely to you anymore, it's being shared with this Mandus fellow. Is it any wonder you've succumbed to jealous hatred of him?"  
"All right, I admit it, I am jealous," Daniel said. The anger on his face gave way to sad weariness. "But what can I do, Henry? Do you think I could possibly talk her out of it?"  
"Do you think that you should?"  
"Please, Henry, don't play the psychiatrist with me now," Daniel begged. "Tell me, what should I do?"  
"In that case, I think that you should make peace with your sister's decision as best you can," Henry advised. "You would never forgive yourself if your disapproval of her first and only lover caused her pain. And if her health is as fragile as you've told me, it may very well vex her into a worse state. Respect and trust her, Daniel, and remember that she still loves you."  
"Haven't you become wise?" Daniel remarked. He sighed, holding his head in both hands. "Sorry. I didn't mean to take that tone with you. It's just rather galling to have to be reminded of how to treat my own sister by you."  
"By me of all people, you mean?"  
Daniel did not deny it. He had let that phrase slip once or twice when drunkenly conversing with Henry, and had hoped Henry had not noticed it. By repeating it, it was clear Henry had not only noticed, but was offended by it.  
"As I grew older, I had to consider very carefully how I treated people," Henry said. "First, I had to identify the anger within me, and the root of its cause. That was the most difficult step, I think, but it stopped me from becoming a publicly violent man. I would have ended up some brawler or thug, had I not taken that first step. I wanted to be better, so I conquered those vicious urges that so darkened my childhood. I tamed my mind, and trained it to consider how my every word or action would affect those around me. There is no need to be so shocked at my 'wisdom', Daniel; it is more science than sympathy."  
"It's more than I have, anyway," Daniel said. "Oh, say, the bottle's empty. Let's have another one, shall we?"  
"Now, now, don't you think you've had enough?" Henry said. "Remember our reunion at the hospital?"  
"I'd rather not," Daniel shuddered. "Fine. I'll stop. It's not as if alcohol helps me sleep any better, anyway."  
"I think you need some fresh air," Henry suggested. He motioned to the window nearby. "Look, the rain's stopped. Why don't we have a walk together?"  
"Why not? My night's far from over."

* * *

Daniel felt mildly better in the fresh rain-scented air. The clouds were clearing, giving peeks at the starry void above. The cigar smoke cleared from his lungs as he walked. He was still distracted, however, and often came close to drifting from Henry's side. After the third time this happened, Henry took his arm, his manner friendly but firm. Daniel's face flushed at being led like a child, but he did not bother to break off from him. The closeness offered some warmth (Henry was always quite warm, it seemed to Daniel, and radiated heat), and Daniel was not displeased by it.

“Really, Daniel, you must not wander so aimlessly at night,” Henry told him. “You most certainly do not want to go down that street.”

“Why not?” Daniel stopped, curiously looking down the dark narrow street. “What's down there?”

Henry, still holding the man's arm, was also forced to stop. He gave Daniel an impatient, annoyed frown. There was conflict in his eyes as he looked down the street.

“Keep walking and I'll tell you.”

“Tell me now. What is it?”

“Honestly, you can be like a child sometimes, Daniel,” Henry muttered. “Fine, I'll tell you. Down that way and around the left corner, there is a vile place. You have heard of opium?”

“Is it that drug from the East? Some very powerful oriental substance?”

“So it is,” Henry said. “Down that way a China-man operates one of the foul dens where the unfortunate go to smoke it. Now, will you come along already?”

Henry tugged his arm and Daniel continued walking by his side.

“Is it very powerful?”

“What?”

“The opium, of course.”

Henry looked down at Daniel with narrowed eyes. Daniel nearly flinched beneath the severity of his gaze. Had he seen through Daniel's intentions so easily?

“Opium is indeed very powerful, which is also why it destroys so utterly,” Henry said. “I've lost patients to its lure. I've seen it destroy a perfectly healthy man within six months, leaving him dead after a year. It is an evil drug.”

“Any drug can be made evil in excess,” Daniel reasoned. “Laudanum uses a refinement of it, does it not? Perhaps if one used it in moderation?”

“There is no moderating it!” Henry snapped. His hand tightened painfully on Daniel's arm. “Believe me, Daniel, it would end you if you tried it even once. Bad enough this laudanum nonsense. I sincerely hope that you are not foolish enough to seek it out.”

Daniel snatched his arm out of Henry's grip and rubbed it.

“Well, that would be my business, wouldn't it?” he said peevishly.

“It would be a stupid business.”

Daniel scowled, saying nothing. He felt as if he had been scolded, and yet he was too fearful of Henry's intensity to argue further. _Damn him! What does he know?_ Daniel thought angrily. _He knows nothing of the desperation that drives men to those opium dens. I do! No, I know more despair than those men, who simply tire of their dull wives and insolent children. I know what Hell is, and that there are evils at which even the Devil would shudder! If pure opium may give me some peace, I will make use of it! I'd make use of anything at this point, anything at all for just a moment's peace._

“Well, here we are,” Daniel said, stopping in front of his building. “Good night, then, Henry.”

Daniel turned curtly before Henry had a chance to bid him goodnight. He had not even set one foot on the threshold when a hand caught his shoulder. He was pulled back and turned around fairly harshly. Shocked, all he could do was gawk up at his psychiatrist.

“How can I be sure that you will not go inside only to leave again in search of the opium den?” Henry asked. “I never should have told you about it.”

“As I said, it is my business whether I wish to try it or not,” Daniel said haughtily. “Take your hand _off_ me, please.”

Henry did not.

“Are you not going to invite me in?” he asked instead.

“What? Why would I?” Daniel asked, forgoing all pretense of politeness.

“It's not so late yet,” Henry said. “I'd like a drink, if you would be so kind.”

It was more of a demand than a request, that much was clear. Daniel licked his lips and swallowed. If he refused him, would Henry become violent? No, that was ridiculous—wasn't it? Henry's large hand was squeezing Daniel's shoulder so hard that Daniel felt his circulation being cut off.

“All right,” Daniel said grudgingly. “If you would like to come up, so be it.”

“How gracious of you. Thank you.”

Daniel ignored the cynicism and Henry released him. They were let into the building by the manager, and went up to Daniel's apartments. As always, the building was unnaturally quiet. Once home, Daniel lit a fire and fetched two glasses and a bottle of brandy. Henry settled himself in the largest chair in the room and rustled in his jacket for a cigar. Daniel sat in the chair opposite him before the fire, sullenly sipping brandy. _I used to have nightmares about this,_ he thought. _Henry Bedloe being in my house._

“I don't see the point of this,” Daniel said. “You can't watch me all night.”

“I may just make myself an overnight guest.”

“Even if you did something so outrageously uninvited, tonight is only one night,” Daniel pointed out. “Not only am I not a child in need of supervision, you can't watch me all the time.”

Henry watched Daniel now from over the top of his brandy glass as he tipped it to his mouth. He savored the liquor, then set the glass down. He lit a cigar and exhaled smoke. His comfort in Daniel's home made Daniel's skin crawl. He never should have let the man see where he lived. They were too close now, far too damn close!

“Come here, Daniel.”

“What?”

“Come over to me.”

Perhaps he merely wanted to say something quietly to him, but the request made Daniel go rigid. His father had sat in a similar chair once, and made similar demands, all before taking him over for a beating. The room whirled, and he felt small, trapped, helpless. Why had he let this man into his home?

“Why?”

“Do you see? My glass is empty.” Henry motioned to it. “If you'd be so kind as to pour me another drink?”

“Oh,” Daniel let out a gushing sigh of relief. “Oh, right, of course. Of course.”

Daniel went over with the bottle and refilled Henry's glass. He left the bottle on the table beside the glass. Just before he made his retreat, Henry reached up and gripped his shoulder again. Daniel flinched as a jolt of animal panic set his nerves on edge. Henry pulled him down so their faces were level, close. He snuffed out the cigar on the ashtray and used his newly freed hand to take Daniel's other shoulder. So Daniel stood stooped over the man, his eyes wild with fear.

“Wha—” Daniel was breathless with terror for a moment. He licked his dry lips. “What are you doing?”

“What have you been through, Daniel?” Henry asked. His eyes searched Daniel's. “What is it those haunted eyes of yours have seen, hm?”

“I don't know what you're talking a—about.”

“Yes, you do.” Henry rubbed one of Daniel's shoulders. “You do. We've been skirting around it all throughout our sessions, haven't we? It's what happened _after_ Africa, isn't it? What did you see in Prussia, Daniel?”

“N—nothing, I … I … ”

Perhaps it was the intimacy or the terror of their physical closeness (or both). Perhaps it was the frustration of being forced away from the opium den. Daniel felt his resolve slipping, and all at once he collapsed against Henry. The memories of Brennenburg came crashing into his mind in a cacophony of horror and shame. He buried his face in Henry's shoulder, and could not stop the tears from falling.

“Horrible,” he murmured. “Dear God, it was _horrible_! Don't make me tell you, Henry, please. I can't say it. I can't! I can never bring myself to speak of it! Of what happened in—in that … that castle!”

“Brennenburg?”

Daniel shuddered violently. Henry stood and his strong arms encircled him. Daniel was shocked by the sensation. No one had ever held him before; his mother had been physically aloof and he had always been the one to hold Hazel. Was this how it felt to be protected?

“What happened at Brennenburg, Daniel?” Henry asked. “What was done to you?”

“I can't s-speak of it,” Daniel gasped between sobs. “It wasn't what was done to me that was so awful. I can take being hurt. I've been hurt my entire life, you know that better than anyone. It was what I did, the things I … the atrocities that I myself … Oh God. Oh _God_. I can't speak of it!”

“But you must, if you wish to confront it,” Henry said. “You do see that, don't you?”

“I can't. I just can't. You would hate me. Yes, even you, you would hate me.”

“I do not believe I could hate you, Daniel,” Henry said gently. “Even when we were children, I never hated you.”

Daniel looked up at him, face pale, shocked, tear-stained. Henry chuckled and took a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wiped Daniel's face for him, as if he were a little boy.

“No, Daniel, I never hated you,” he said. “It was never hate.”

“That would have surprised me once,” Daniel said. “But now—I know. I know the things a man can do to someone without hating them, without feeling anything for them at all.”

“I did not say I didn't feel _anything_ for you.” Henry took Daniel's gaunt face in both hands suddenly. “I could never say that.”

Henry leaned his face down, closer, ever closer. Daniel felt his warmth keenly now, and it burned away his own cold sweat. The intimacy was alarming, but somehow Daniel did not want to relinquish it. He knew that he should break away, that he _must_ end this, but he could not move. Even as Henry's whiskers scratched his own clean-shaven skin, even as his mouth, surprisingly soft and sensuously full on the bottom, closed at the corner of Daniel's mouth, he did not move. Henry's eyes closed briefly as he kissed the corner of Daniel's mouth. Daniel idly noted how thick his sooty eyelashes were.

“I never hated you, it was the opposite,” Henry said, his mouth now at Daniel's ear. “I loved you, Daniel. I loved you in a way that no boy should ever love another boy.”

“Then why?” Daniel turned his face to Henry's, their foreheads touching. “Why did you hurt me?”

“I was furious with you for simply existing,” Henry confessed. “I used to wish that you didn't exist, so I wouldn't feel such things for you. You see, my mother always said that was why my father abandoned us, because he was a sodomite. I had to be a true man, for her sake, or so she said. If she was particularly angry with me, she would say I was a nancy sod, just like my father. Until I saw you, I had always been able to deny it. But what I felt for you, since the moment I noticed you, made it impossible to deny. I hated myself, and I took it out on you.”

Daniel did not know what to say. What could he say? _All those years wasted. Love … I would have liked to have someone love me, even if it was another boy. We could have been close._

“And now I _have_ you,” Henry said mirthfully. “At last, I have you!”

“Just a mo—mm!”

Henry crushed his mouth fully into Daniel's, beard and mustache scraping Daniel's skin. His mouth opened wide over Daniel's, his tongue tasting him greedily. His overpowering warmth seared desire into Daniel. Clumsily, Daniel met his kiss, tried to kiss him back. Henry tasted of brandy and cigars.

“I don't know if I want this,” Daniel murmured when they finally parted for breath. He was lightheaded with heat and nerves and giddiness. “I mean, that is to say, I … I don't really know what 'this' is.”

“A sin, according to the Good old Book,” Henry chuckled ruefully.

“Oh, I've committed far worse sins than sodomy,” Daniel said. “And I know there is no God watching over this world. I only meant that, well, I'm not sure how this works.”

“Must I explain sodomy to you?”

“I don't know anything about any of it,” Daniel said hopelessly. “That is, um, I'm—I haven't—”

“Christ,” Henry swore. “Do you mean to tell me that you're a virgin?”

“I thought only girls were virgins.” Daniel felt his face burning with embarrassment. “But—yes. That was actually the first time anyone kissed me.”

“Well, well, so it was,” Henry mused. He ran a finger over Daniel's bottom lip. “Did you like it?”

“Yes. Well, excepting your whiskers.”

“Perhaps it's time I went for a shave.”

Daniel laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Henry sank back down onto the chair and pulled Daniel down to sit on his lap. Daniel felt ridiculous, but he liked the comfort of being cradled in the larger man's arms. He leaned his head on Henry's shoulder and exhaled slowly. The memories of Brennenburg ebbed away, along with his misery, replaced by sheer exhaustion.

“We will talk of love and sex, but another time,” Henry said. “It is late.”

“Mm.”

Henry kissed Daniel's forehead. _How he's changed,_ Daniel thought sleepily. _He's so caring. Yes, I … I believe I could love Henry. It would be nice to be loved for once. But …_

“You shouldn't love me, though, Henry,” Daniel said. “You don't know me truly. You don't know what I've done. If you did, you would hate me.”

“I told you, I could never hate you, Daniel.”

“I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to be happy. I don't deserve to be loved.”

“Hush, hush.”

Henry shushed him with a kiss, and Daniel's heavy eyelids closed. He tried to reopen them when Henry's lips parted from his, but he could not. He felt another kiss on his forehead, and then slipped into darkness.

* * *

Henry sat for a while in the chair, Daniel now sleeping peacefully on his lap. He sipped brandy and watched the fire, stroking Daniel's arm. Once he finished his brandy, he stood, carrying Daniel in his arms. He moved through the apartment until he found Daniel's bedroom, and lay him down on the bed. He then proceeded to undress Daniel, attentively methodical. When Daniel was fully naked, he stood over him, eyes drinking in the young man's body.

Daniel's hair was unruly and he rarely bothered to cut it, it sprawled around his face messily. This close, Henry saw that there were a few premature white streaks in it, doubtlessly brought about by trauma. He had gained enough weight since meeting Henry not to look malnourished, but he was a slim man, delicate compared to Henry's physique. His skin was very pale, which made his hollow, shadowed eyes stand out all the more; when they were open, they had a haunted, hunted look that was more animal than human. All the boyish softness had been cut away from his face, showing his fine bone structure more clearly. He had grown up to be quite handsome, Henry mused, and yet he was still fragile enough to be alluring.

Henry sat on the bed beside Daniel. He traced the lines of Daniel's face with his fingers, then went down his neck, over the ridge of collarbone, to his chest. He splayed his hand over the man's heart, feeling it beat. Then he let his hand wander downward. Daniel was averagely endowed, and Henry fondled his cock lightly, feeling it stiffen for a moment. Daniel frowned and shifted in his sleep at this, turned over to his side. Henry pushed him onto his stomach and kissed the back of his shoulder. There were some scars on Daniel's back, most likely from his father's vicious lashings. A dark look overcame Henry's face as he followed the scars with his fingers, down the man's back. His buttocks were somehow unscathed, plump and smooth, unblemished. Henry stifled quite a few urges, settling to squeeze the man's cheeks one at a time. Daniel shifted restlessly again.

“Yes,” Henry murmured beatifically. He gave Daniel's buttocks a few reassuring pats. “I have you now, Daniel. I have you.”

** End of Chapter Three **


	4. Chapter 4

September 25, 1839

Daniel awoke with a start. There was a presence beside him, immense and hot. He froze with terror in the early morning indigo, too scared to even breathe. Then he heard soft snoring, and brushed against human flesh. _Henry_ , he thought, and the fear melted away. He moved closer and tentatively put an arm over the man's broad chest. _That's right, Henry. He said he loved me._

Daniel realized they were both naked. Had they had sex? He felt no different, and he could not remember anything after sitting on the man's lap, letting him caress him.

As the dawn lit the room more fully, Daniel looked at Henry curiously. He looked even more massive out of his clothing, but the whole of his robust figure was hard, thick muscle. His skin was paler beneath the tan of his face and hands, liberally dusted with wiry black hairs. Beneath the thin sheet, Daniel could see the outline of the man's cock, and he blushed for noticing how large it was. Had it been inside him? The idea made him fearful, dizzy, perversely desirous. No, it could not be, he would feel—something. How _would_ it feel, then?

“Admiring the view, Daniel?”

“I was only—ah—” Daniel stammered. His blush deepened. “I was wondering, did we have, um, sodomy?”

Henry burst into laughter. Daniel wanted to die. Henry sat up in bed and slung an arm around the youth.

“You would have noticed and remembered if I had sodomized you, I daresay,” he said. “You fell asleep on my lap, and I carried you here and undressed you for bed. Then I decided to call it a night and stay with you.”

Daniel was suddenly aware of his own nakedness and pulled the sheets around him.

“You could have at least put me in a bed gown.”

“Why? I intend to be seeing a lot more of you in future.”

“I never agreed to any of this,” Daniel said. “I don't even know if I want this, whatever it is. Is it a love affair?”

“I should hope so.”

“But what if we're caught? It's illegal, isn't it?”

“Don't worry so, my Daniel.” Henry patted Daniel's head like a dog. “Such trysts are carried out in secret every day by many dozens of men. So long as we can trust one another, how will the police even know about it? We're friends, we visit. If I take one of the empty apartments you spoke of next door, no one will even see us coming and going.”

“You would do that? Move? Just to be with me?”

Henry kissed him suddenly, with such violence it left Daniel's lips stinging.

“I would do anything to keep you, now that I've got you,” Henry said intensely. “You may not believe me yet, but it's true. I won't let you go, Daniel. I love you. I've _always_ loved you.”

Daniel felt more weak and uncertain than ever in the face of Henry's passion. Yet he could not say he wasn't flattered by the affection. As Henry kissed him again, he thought that if love were the reason, he could even forgive the old schoolyard beatings.

“I do want to be loved by you, Henry,” Daniel said. “I just don't know about the sex. Women never interested me, so I simply never considered having sex at all. I'm not sure if I want to have it.”

Henry gave him a look. Then he reached under the sheets and took hold of Daniel's cock. Daniel cried out in shock and dismay as he felt it stiffen. Henry's rough palm stroked the erection until Daniel was thoughtless with sensation.

“Did you enjoy that?”

Daniel had collapsed face-down into the mattress, thoroughly spent. He managed to raise his head enough to nod. Henry patted a hand down upon his buttocks.

“Then I suppose you do enjoy sex,” he said simply. He caressed Daniel's bottom a bit, then gave it a swat. “Now let's see about breakfast, hm?”

* * *

They washed up, dressed, and breakfasted together. Afterward, Henry left for his home (and to get a shave, he claimed). As bewildered as he was about their sudden love affair, Daniel missed Henry when he was gone. His apartment felt claustrophobic again, and his nerves began to fray. Unable to stand it, he took some laudanum, and lay down to rest on the parlor sofa.

_'You really are doing it again.'_

Alexander's voice drifted through Daniel's mind so clearly he could have sworn he heard it with his ears. He had an arm slung over his eyes as he rested, and he fought not to look around for the deceased baron.

“Doing what?” he answered despite himself.

_'Isn't it obvious? No, perhaps not. If you excel at anything, Daniel, it's running far, far away from the truth about your own nature.'_

“So tell me, then, what? What _am_ I doing?”

_'You are relying on a man much stronger than you to guide you, help you,_ save _you,'_ Alexander's condescending voice informed him. _'It reminds me of what you told me in Brennenburg of an evening. Do you remember? The story about the teacher that you so admired, one Mr. Miller. Was that your first, Daniel?'_

“First what?”

_'Your first surrogate father.'_

“That was not how it was.”

_'Oh but it was. This teacher of yours used to always sit you down and give you very caring advice after he'd spank you, didn't he? So you deliberately got into trouble with him, so that he could talk to you the way a kindhearted father would. That is, until he betrayed you by reporting your misdeeds to your real father instead of punishing you himself.'_

Daniel gritted his teeth, determined not to let Alexander's words affect him.

_'You came to me for exactly the same thing,'_ Alexander went on. _'Or did you want even more from me? I remember how you flitted about the castle, transfixed by every word I spoke, impressed with every inch of Brennenburg. How you admired me!'_

“Stop talking.”

_'You fell into my arms crying for help, just the way you did with Henry last night. Daddy, daddy, save me.'_

“Be quiet!”

_'I may have been old and weak, as you said, but I could have had you, had I wanted you. Perhaps I should have. After all, you did whatever I commanded: you tortured, you killed, you did so many things, Daniel, so many_ inhuman _things. I might as well have fucked you, too.'_

“Stop it!”

Daniel sat up wildly on the sofa. There, blurry, misshapen, but present, was Baron Alexander von Brennenburg. Daniel's head swam and his ears went ringing. Then his breath ran out, and he collapsed into darkness.

* * *

A pounding sound roused Daniel finally. He sat up, wincing as pain exploded in his head. The parlor was empty. The fire had gone out, and it was cold. Outside, he heard rain pouring.

“I was dreaming,” he said to himself. “Of course. Only dreaming. Nightmares, even in the day.”

Yet Daniel did not wholly believe this. He stood up in a daze, feeling as if the core of his being had been ripped apart inside him. The knocking came again, and he headed automatically for his apartment door.

“Dreaming. I was only dreaming. He's dead. He died. I killed him.”

Daniel stood in front of the door stupidly for a minute. There was a forceful knocking again. He opened the door. Henry Bedloe was there. It took Daniel a moment to recognize him. He was clean-shaven now, revealing a strong broad jaw and the sensuousness of his half-full mouth. Without the facial hair, he looked much younger. _That's right,_ Daniel thought, _he's only a year or two older than me._

“Daniel, are you all right?”

“I was only dreaming.” An unhinged laugh escaped Daniel. “Haha! It had to be a dream. _He_ can't be here, you see. He can't. He's dead. He died.”

“Who is dead?”

Henry came into the apartment without asking permission and shut the door behind himself.

“Alexander,” Daniel said. “Alexander is dead, so of course he can't be here. He can only be in dreams. He's dead, I say. He died. I … I killed him. He ca—He can't be here. He can't.”

A screeching cry burst from Daniel, and he clutched his head in both hands. He fell to the floor on his knees, shaking and crying softly. Henry knelt down beside him and took him in his arms.

“I think I'm going mad,” Daniel said hoarsely. He looked more tired than any youth should. “Henry, I think that I'll go mad.”

“You mustn't think that way,” Henry said. “Come sit and I'll start a fire. There we are, good man. Sit there. Here, have some brandy.”

When the fire was blazing and Daniel had been somewhat calmed by the brandy, Henry sat beside him on the sofa. Daniel stared into the flames like a condemned man watching his last sunrise. Henry stroked his hair, his back.

“Now, you tell me about this man Alexander, and why you are having hallucinations of him.”

“I can't,” Daniel said hollowly. “I can't, you'll hate me.”

“None of that,” Henry said sternly. “You know that I love you. Trust that, Daniel. Trust me, and tell me the truth. All of it.”

Daniel looked at him with sorrow written all over his pale face. The hopeless fragility of the man made Henry's blood run warm. As with death, suffering turned some lovely, and others ghastly. Daniel was the sort of man that was starkly beautiful in it, all his soul vulnerably naked to the world. Henry shifted where he sat as he felt himself growing stiff.

“Why not?” Daniel said dully. “I've already lost everything. I might as well lose you, too.”

“You shan't lose me, Daniel.” Henry took one of Daniel's hands into his own. “I promise you that.”

“No one will blame you for breaking that promise, least of all myself,” Daniel said. “Not after you hear my story.”

Daniel drew a deep, shuddering breath, and spoke. He hesitated and tripped his way through the story of his discovery in Africa. Despite his fears, he felt relief at finally being able to confess. He told Henry about returning to London, and the deaths the Shadow had caused there. Then, the whole grisly tale of the events at Brennenburg Castle spilled from his lips in a harrowing, tearful rush. By the end, Daniel was so hysterical that Henry, ever the psychiatrist, injected him with a sedative. He lay down full length on the sofa, trembling and sweating. Henry put a towel wet with cool water over his forehead and drew a chair up beside him.

“So in the end, you killed Alexander?”

“Yes,” Daniel said. “I murdered him, and of all the things I regret, that is not one of them.”

“And this … Orb artifact?”

“Gone, lost in that final ritual of Alexander's that I disrupted.”

“I see.”

“I know it all sounds too fantastic to be believed, but it all happened, I swear it did,” Daniel said. “I only wish that madness had come to me sooner, so that I could believe it was all a delusion. But it was not. It happened. It all happened.”

“I believe you, Daniel. It _is_ fantastic, but I believe you.”

“Then why are you still here?” Daniel cried out in anguish. “If you believe what I've said, if you believe that I committed so many atrocities, how can you stand the sight of me?”

“Love is blind, isn't that what they say?” Henry mused. He stroked the side of Daniel's face. “I only see you, the boy I first loved, the boy I went mad from loving. Besides, I have done unforgivable things, as well. I know what it is to live in the shadow of a blackened heart.”

“No. No, you've done nothing that compares to what I have,” Daniel said. “I am too selfish and cowardly to tell you not to love me. Having company now, I … I realize just how alone I've been for so long. I can't understand how you love me still, but … I am grateful that you are here.”

Henry kissed Daniel's lips lightly. Fresh tears poured down Daniel's face, streaking Henry's cheekbones. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve as he lay back down, sniffling. Henry could still taste his tears, salty on his tongue.

“So it is this baron, Alexander, that you have been seeing?” Henry asked. “Although he was devoured by that Shadow, you have been seeing him?”

“I only saw something that resembled him this morning,” Daniel said. “But I have been hearing his voice in my head. I can't block him out. He talks on and on, tormenting me.”

“What does he speak of?”

“Me. He tells me how weak I am, how inadequate,” Daniel murmured. “He reminds me of what I did at Brennenburg, of what I became. I know that I don't deserve the peace of forgetting, but I can't live with his voice constantly reminding me of it. I'll go mad. No, I've already gone mad. I'll kill myself.”

“Don't say such a stupid thing,” Henry snapped harshly. He drew a breath, and softened his tone. “This is a fancy born from some deep-rooted guilt, nothing more.”

“I told you, I do not feel guilt over Alexander's death.”

“Perhaps you do, perhaps you do not. Regardless, this voice is the embodiment of your guilt over what went on at Brennenburg,” Henry reasoned. “And why not? You've got a heavy burden to carry, if all you say is true. Though you were perhaps manipulated by the baron, you have quite a lot of blood on your hands.”

“Perhaps? _Perhaps_?” Daniel echoed incredulously. He sat up unsteadily. “I _was_ manipulated by him! That man made me into a murderer! A monster! All in the name of serving the greater good, all in the name of justice! Do you see? He _made me_ evil!”

Henry's lips tightened at the corners. He shushed Daniel wordlessly and pushed him back down. The moist towel had slipped off, and he wiped Daniel's face with it and replaced it on his forehead. Daniel sighed, listless again, and lay his head on the armrest.

“I feel no guilt for what I did to Alexander,” he said. “However, you may be right, I may be conjuring him up to torture myself over … those other things. But wouldn't that still be rather mad?”

“It's a way of coping, that's all,” Henry said. “Why don't I stay with you for a while? Rather, why don't I bring you home to my apartments? It is a quiet building, and I own the top floor and the apartment below mine. There is much privacy.”

“You sound fairly wealthy. Sorry, that was improper.”

“You need not be so cynical about it, but yes, I am 'fairly wealthy', as you say,” Henry admitted. “My sodomite father may have left for romances unknown, but it turned out that he did not forget about his responsibility. My mother had been living on an allowance from him, which I never knew until adulthood, and when he died my father left me a sizable inheritance.”

“I see.”

Henry glanced at Daniel. Daniel coughed to cover the obvious envy in his tone. He was a bit jealous. His own father owned a shoe shop of some renown, but he made it clear early on that he would never leave it in Daniel's unskilled hands. By now, his apprentice, whom he had treated better than his own son, had probably taken the place over. Daniel moved the towel over his eyes, and was silent a while. Henry checked his pulse, then stroked his hand and wrist.

“Do you have luggage?” Henry asked.

“Yes, of course,” Daniel said. “After Brennenburg, I had to purchase new cases and a carpet bag, new clothes, everything. It's all in the bedroom.”

“How did you manage that?” Henry asked curiously. “I thought you had left Brennenburg with only the clothes on your back.”

Daniel was so quiet and still that Henry inquired as to whether he had heard him. Finally, Daniel removed the towel from his eyes and set it in the bowl of water on the table. He sat up with more strength this time.

“When Brennenburg fell, the citizens of the village where so many of our victims came from, Altstadt, flooded the woods to see what had happened,” Daniel said. “I knew what I had done by then, and I was terrified that the villagers would find me in the woods and guess at my complicity with Alexander. Silly, I suppose, there is no way the peasantry could have guessed that so many disappearances were caused by Alexander and I. Nonetheless, I ran, I ran for my life through those dark woods. It's only a miracle that I was not devoured by wolves—or perhaps the wolves had all been devoured by the Shadow. During my entire flight, I did not see or hear a single living thing. Not even the night birds cried, not once. All I heard were the villagers roaming, and I ran from the light of their torches. In the commotion, I suppose the village had been left empty. If anyone was at home, they were locked in their rooms or cellars. There must have been great fear in those parts during my stay at Brennenburg.

“In any case, I found the inn, Der Mühle, empty. All the last of my energy had been spent in fleeing from the castle and the villagers. I was ravenous. I raided the kitchen like some gluttonous fiend. That was when the reality of my situation began to make itself clear. I was an Englishman in a foreign country with nothing to my name and crimes on my conscience. How would I get home? What would I do? Surely, they would find bodies and worse at Brennenburg, and they would blame Alexander. What if the villagers began talking about how close I was to Alexander? I became feverishly sick with worry and exhaustion. Somehow, that seemed to clear my mind. I emptied a sack of flour and stuffed it full of provisions. Then, I raided the place for money. Altstadt was small and peaceful, and many of the inn's rooms were unlocked. I took all the money that I could find, and clean clothing that fit well enough. Then, I fled the village.”

Henry's thick eyebrows were raised high on his broad brow. Daniel flushed with shame.

“I was still wild as a savage at that point,” he said. “All I could do was survive—escape. I didn't consider my actions evil or cowardly, or anything at all. I could only focus on protecting myself. Far from Altstadt, I bathed myself in a river, and dressed in the clean clothing. It was a long, long way to the next village over, but I made it. I threw away the empty flour sack, and went into town, feigning the frenzy of a man that has been robbed on the road. No one doubted me, not even for a minute. They must have seen the shape I was in and took pity on me. I was taken care of well, and my identity was proven through contact with the English Embassy eventually. After that, it was only a matter of drawing credit from my bank and making my way home. I had just returned the night I went out and got drunk. We met the very next day at the hospital.”

“No wonder you've been in such a state,” Henry said. He patted Daniel's shoulder heartily. “Well, that settles it, you must come stay with me. It will do you no good to remain here. These apartments were touched by the Orb and hence the Shadow, were they not?”

“Yes. I held it here, I … assembled it in the drawing room … I heard the Shadow at night in my dreams.” Daniel shook violently before steadying himself with a deep breath. “You may be right, Henry. I should distance myself from everywhere that has been stained by the Orb. I haven't even been able to set foot back inside the British Museum.”

“Come, then.” Henry stood and lifted Daniel off the sofa to his feet. “I'll help you pack some things, and we'll leave immediately. You really should have gone somewhere other than this place, you know.”

“I had nowhere else,” Daniel said softly. “I can't afford a hotel. Soon enough, I won't be able to afford anything, if I don't go back to work. But how can I work at the museum? How can I, when I know the darkest truths that hide in the murk of ancient times? God!”

“Now, now, calm yourself.” Henry stroked Daniel's back. “I'll help you settle your affairs personally, in time. For now, you need rest.”

“Yes, that would be nice,” Daniel murmured. “To simply rest, to simply _be_. I've forgotten what that feels like.”

“Then let's help you remember.”

* * *

Henry helped Daniel clean himself up and pack clothing and toiletries. Daniel was amazed at how quickly and completely the man had taken charge of his life. He remembered what Alexander had told him about relying upon a stronger man, but he was too weak to oppose Henry Bedloe. He followed along with his will, simply happy to have company to stave off the anguish that accompanied loneliness. Henry was so powerful that he seemed to drive away the shadows in Daniel's tormented mind by sheer force of will. What was wrong with relying upon someone like that, anyway? Not everyone was strong enough to stand on their own two feet. Daniel had been doing fine, until the damn Orb had shattered him, and Alexander had finished destroying his will. It wasn't his fault that he was so broken that he had to rely upon another man.

_At least I have someone to rely upon,_ Daniel thought. _I hate to think what would have become of me if Henry hadn't shown up, sitting and suffering in here all day alone, Alexander's voice ringing in my mind. Alexander never speaks when Henry is around. I guess there is a good side to being friends with a bully. No, no, that's unfair. Henry is very kind to me. He isn't that bully anymore._

Before they left Daniel's apartment, Henry kissed him hard. He told him not to worry about anything for the time being, that he would take care of him. Daniel actually managed to smile.

They took a carriage to the building where Henry lived. It was a splendidly affluent building in an old, distinguished district. Henry explained that the apartments had belonged to his father, and were part of his inheritance. He spoke of his wealth in a matter-of-fact way, with neither distasteful bragging or contrived embarrassment. Come to think of it, his entire manner was that way: civil, but more open and plain than most of his class. _Some rough edges were never quite smoothed out,_ Daniel thought.

The apartment turned out to be exceptionally decorated. Daniel felt a streak of jealousy and ineptitude as he compared it to his own simple quarters. The furniture was heavy, made of burnished walnut and carved by expert hands, chairs upholstered with rich red leather and accented with pillows of jewel-colored velvet. There were a few imported accent pieces that were delicately painted, sculpted, and carved by Eastern hands, alleviating the severity of the room. In the dining room there were several tall cabinets displaying ethereally painted fine china, and an exotic bouquet sat in the center of the table. Daniel was surprised by the attention to detail in the furnishings, until Henry explained that it was his father's doing, and that he had simply left most of it as it came to him. He claimed not to have an eye for fine things, but Daniel doubted this was true. After all, he had chosen the flowers, and he had been wise enough to leave the fine heirlooms intact. A true brute would have sold most of it and been done. _No,_ Daniel thought, _he appreciates the sensuousness of these things. His eyes are too keen and his mouth too decadent for him to have no aesthetic appreciation at all. His hands are too … appreciative … of sensation. I felt that for myself._

“Are you all right, Daniel? Your face is flushed.”

“It's nothing.”

“This will be your room. It's the best guest room, and is right next to my own.”

The furnishings of this room were lighter, and the walls were papered with a cream and blue striped damask. Daniel set his bags down and stared around the beautiful room. To think that of all the people in the world, Henry Bedloe owned this place, and that he was allowed to stay here!

Daniel's satisfaction was cut short by the memory of being shown into a guest room at Brennenburg Castle. He had felt this same sense of wonder. He had been just this intrigued, just this grateful. Alexander's words drifted through his memory: _'You're doing it again, Daniel.'_

Then Henry squeezed his shoulder, and his doubts faded. This was different, he told himself. Alexander had only sought to use him for the power of his Orb. Henry had come into his life with nothing to gain. All he wanted was to love the boy he had always loved. Even his old bullying was not what Daniel had thought it was, but the result of romantic frustration.

_This is different,_ Daniel told himself. _It must be. Henry loves me, he said so himself. He only wants to help me. Don't I deserve that? I know I've done wrong, but after all that I've been through, don't I deserve_ some _happiness? Besides, the world doesn't give and take based on who deserves what. Innocents are slaughtered and murderers walk free. Demons like Alexander roam the earth and disrupt lives. And then there are those other planes that the Orb showed me, full of evils we can scarcely imagine. If I take love for myself, deserving or not, is that really so wrong? Should I refuse this gift when I need it most? Why would I? How could I? I won't!_

“Thank you, Henry,” Daniel said quietly. “I hate to impose upon you this way, but I am grateful. I was going mad in my apartment all alone. I haven't been myself since Brennenburg.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Henry said. “It is no imposition at all. I have led a somewhat solitary life myself, due to my persuasions. It will be nice to have company again, and that it's you, my long-lost Daniel, is quite the miracle.”

“I am no miracle.”

Henry tipped Daniel's face up to his own by the chin. His thumb reached up and caressed the side of Daniel's mouth. Without his facial hair, the voluptuousness of his face was more apparent. He would give a phrenologist a difficult time, Daniel thought, given the vast conflicts of his features. His strong jaw and slightly broad nose were signs of brutality, but he had the wide, high brow of an intellectual. Then there were his lips, just full enough on the bottom to speak of indulgence, of decadence …

“To me, having you is.”

Those lips seized upon Daniel's, and Daniel shuddered with pleasure. He was still intimidated by being with another man romantically, especially _this man_ , but the fear gave him a thrill. _I haven't been this excited by the lure of the unknown since setting out for Africa._

“Now enough of your doubts,” Henry said. “Let me take care of you.”

“Well, if you insist.”

“I do,” Henry said with a broad smile. “You make yourself at home here. I will inform the staff that I have a guest, and to set luncheon for two.”

“Staff?” Daniel said nervously. “What if someone, I mean, what if they suspect?”

“My staff has been with me for many years, and they would sooner lose their tongues than violate my privacy,” Henry said, flashing blunt white teeth. “I pay them well. You need not worry about them.”

“Still—”

“They live in the apartment below this one and only come up at specified times or when I ring for them. Even the butler is stationed outside the apartment door until needed. As I said, you needn't worry about them.”

“All right.”

“Then, I will see you at lunch.” Henry kissed his forehead. “Try to rest, Daniel.”

With that, Henry strode out, shutting the door behind him. Daniel looked around the room, overwhelmed. _Is this really all right? Well, he is the one who offered. I do need a rest, and I wasn't doing very well in my apartment. I probably won't be able to afford my apartment much longer. Perhaps I'll give it up and live here until I can find proper employment again. Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll only rely on Henry's kindness until I can bring myself to return to the British Museum. I hate returning there, but I need my job. I'm sure they'll understand my illness and poor state after the expedition was so completely wiped out. I could even say that I went searching for Professor Herbert. Once I have my income back, I'll find a better place to live for myself, and I won't have to rely on Henry. If we want to continue this love affair or whatever it is, we will. If I decide it's too tawdry, I'll end it. There's no reason to worry so much. This is not some damnable tomb on the dark continent, it's not the wilds of Prussia, this is England. This is home. I don't know why I'm so paranoid about it all. Henry is right, I need to rest._

Daniel half-undressed and lay down on the bed. The sheets were clean and pressed, silky smooth against his clammy flesh. It smelled of lavender and linen. He sank into the plump mattress and pillows. He waited for Alexander's voice to torment him, but it never came. Relieved, he dozed in rare, blissful peace.

** End of Chapter Four **


	5. Chapter 5

October 14, 1839

Daniel had been living comfortably with Henry Bedloe for two weeks when the letter arrived. He was surprised to learn that Henry had had his mail redirected here for him, and even more surprised to see his sister Hazel's handwriting on the envelope. He turned it over in his hands as he sat in the drawing room that evening. Henry was smoking a cigar nearby, light blue eyes watching Daniel closely.

“Who writes you, Daniel?” Henry asked. “I was of the impression that you had left the society of your former acquaintances.”

“I have. This letter is from my—my sister. It's from Hazel.”

“The bride-to-be, is it? Is it a wedding invitation?”

Daniel tensed and glared over at Henry. No, he was being silly, he realized. Henry had not reminded him of the wedding out of malice, surely.

“It doesn't feel like an invite.” Daniel very slowly tore open the envelope and removed its contents. “No, it's a letter.”

Henry waited in patient silence while Daniel read the letter. Daniel's face was wary when he finished. He put the letter down on the side table and went to pour himself a glass of brandy. The drawing room was silent save for the roar of the fire and the heavy ticking of a massive grandfather clock.

“I haven't gone home since my return from Prussia, and Hazel is concerned about me,” Daniel explained. He paced the room anxiously with a full glass of brandy in hand. “I haven't written her back since her letter telling me of her intention to marry Xavier Mandus. She worries that I am unwell, and wishes to see me.”

“And will you go?”

“I should. I would hate to worry her.”

“And yet?”

“And yet how can I go and pretend to be happy for her?” Daniel asked. “What if I only upset her further?”

“Come now, Daniel, I'm sure you've endured worse hardships than feigning happiness for your beloved sister.”

“I know, Henry,” Daniel sighed. He sat down on the arm of the chair Henry sat in, frowning deeply. “Still. If I see this man, Xavier Mandus, it will be a sore challenge to remain civil. Not only that, but I loath going home entirely. I hate seeing my parents.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I hate _them_ ,” Daniel said. “I wish that I could be more civil about it, but that's the truth. I hate them both. It's horrible. I'm a horrible person for it, but I can't deny it anymore. Not after—”

Henry took a long drag on his cigar, then snuffed it out. He looked up at Daniel, rubbing his back through his shirt. Daniel continued drinking, his mood darkening.

“After what?”

“Nothing.”

Henry pulled Daniel down from his perch, onto his lap. Daniel looked at him angrily. He had protested being treated so childishly many times by now, but Henry never listened. Though they had yet to have sex (Daniel demurred every time Henry tried), Henry enjoyed keeping Daniel close.

“Well? You may as well tell me.”

“It was in Brennenburg, when I was learning how to torture people.” Daniel paused to take a very big gulp of brandy. “I had lost all sense of propriety by then, of course. I think that I was quite mad. In any case, many times I—I would envision—there on the table, or in the chains, I—I would fancy that it was my father or my mother. I would—would—fancy that I was torturing them, my own parents. And I would … laugh.”

Daniel wiped tears from his eyes, but more fell. He sniffled, drank. Henry's face was indecipherable as he watched him. Finally, he chuckled, much to Daniel's alarm.

“That brings back memories.” Henry traced the track of his tears with his fingers, then touched the tip of them to his tongue. “You always did cry when you confessed in school, if I recall. What a fuss you make.”

“A fuss? You think I'm only making a fuss?” Daniel asked furiously. “Have you been hearing a word I've said?”

“Of course, I always hear what you say, Daniel,” Henry said lazily. “It simply reminded me of boyhood for a moment. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be insensitive.”

Daniel sulked. Henry kissed him until his mood softened. Daniel climbed off his lap and resumed pacing. He refilled his glass, though his speech was beginning to slur.

“In any case, how can I return home and look my parents in the eyes after all that?”

“Do you fear doing so because you are unworthy of them?” Henry asked. After a pause, he added, “Or are you afraid that you'll see them and the murderous urges will return?”

Daniel was so startled by the question that he nearly dropped his glass. Brandy sloshed the table. His hand trembled as he brought the glass to his lips. He finished off nearly half of it in one go. Henry rested one leg on one knee, watching him.

“I should be offended by that, but I can't even deny the possibility,” Daniel said. “Damn it all! Damn what Alexander did to me! What kind of man am I now?”

Daniel drank until his glass was empty. He went to refill it again, but Henry's hand was suddenly upon his own. He took the glass from him and put the stopper back in the decanter.

“That's enough for the night,” Henry said firmly. “There is no use dwelling on what has been or what might be. If you decide to go see your sister, then I will accompany you.”

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

“I would feel much better if I went with you,” Daniel said. “I'll consider it. Thank you.”

Henry ruffled Daniel's lanky brown hair. It was healthier now that Daniel was eating properly and washing it regularly, and was neatly cut and styled. Still, it had a tendency towards messiness, and was always falling around his face. The streaks of white were dull, wiry, and added to the disarray. Henry wondered if madness could actually grow out through the scalp and cause such unruliness. Despite his recovering health, Daniel still had a touched look that worsened when he drank.

“Poor fractured thing,” Henry remarked. “You really never did know quite what to do with yourself, did you?”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Don't worry, Daniel. I will take care of you. You're mine to care for now.”

_He's quite possessive that way,_ Daniel thought as Henry kissed him. _He uses that word often, 'mine'. That, and he also says that he has me now, as if I'm something he caught in the wild. I suppose it's only natural. Isn't that the way men feel about their wives? I suppose it's the same when a man loves another man._

Henry grew more forceful as they kissed and embraced. Daniel could feel him hard through his breeches, and his own body was responding in kind. Henry unbuttoned his shirt and tore off his ascot, nearly choking him in the process. A button clicked as it fell loose upon the floor. Soon, they were both stripped to the waist. Daniel's blood throbbed in his veins, but his nerves made him push away.

“I'm sorry, I—I'm not—I can't.”

Henry's face was deep red, and for a moment Daniel feared violence from him. The man blew out a sigh of frustration, and then poured himself a glass of brandy. Daniel tried not to look at his bare chest, rippling with muscles, and the erection barely constrained in his pants. He wanted him, desperately, but the idea of sodomy frightened him. He kept thinking of the Judas Cradle he and Alexander had lowered criminals onto, and how they had bled. Henry had laughed at him when he had told him of this, and assured him that it was different, but the mental images remained.

“For Christ's sake, it isn't torture,” Henry scoffed now. He had an uncanny ability to discern what Daniel was thinking. “Even if it were, you're very reticent about succumbing to a fate you bestowed upon an innocent man.”

Henry had never spoken so judgmentally to Daniel before, and it shook him. Feeling vulnerable, he struggled back into his shirt. The stray button on the floor turned out to be his.

“Do I deserve to be tortured, then? Is that what you think?”

“I just said it isn't torture!” Henry boomed at him. “As to that, what do you think, Daniel? What do you really believe?”

“I _was_ tortured in Brennenburg!” Daniel exclaimed. “I had to fight for my life! I was hurt! It was—purgatory! And I fought and I survived and I did the world a service by ending the life of that damned Alexander! I didn't do all of that so that I could be judged by you of all people.”

“Of all people, of all people,” Henry muttered. “You tell me not to judge you, and yet you've never stopped saying that, have you? You continue to judge me for what I did as a mere child, yet you snivel every time you think I'm judging you as a man. You're a blasted coward, Daniel!”

“Why are you being so cruel to me?”

“ _I_? I am being cruel?” Henry laughed. “I've taken you from the depths of madness into my care, into my bloody home! How have I been cruel to you?”

Henry crossed the room before Daniel could move. He took Daniel by the arm, shook him once. Daniel shrank beneath him, flashes of childhood beatings running through his mind. Henry gripped his face in one hand and forced Daniel to look at him.

“And I could be cruel to you, if I chose,” he said. His breath was warm, and it smelled of smoke and brandy. Daniel struggled, but he held him in place easily. “I could throw you over that chair and take you at this very moment. And I could point out that that would only be a fraction of the pain you caused at Brennenburg.”

“Please,” Daniel gasped. “Please, I'll leave, I'll go tonight. Please don't hurt me.”

“I am _not_ going to hurt you,” Henry said, frustrated. He smoothed Daniel's hair and kissed him. “Stop crying. I'm not going to hurt you. I apologize if I scared you. I can be rather an animal when I'm not satiated.”

Daniel tried to pull away, but Henry embraced him. Trapped, Daniel buried his face in the man's chest.

“I should not have brought up Brennenburg, that was unkind of me,” Henry said. “Here, it's been a long day. I'll leave you to your own room tonight.”

Daniel nodded. He gathered his shirt together, picked up his discarded ascot, and hurried from the drawing room. He locked himself in his room and climbed into bed.

_I never should have told him about Brennenburg,_ he thought miserably. _Damn him, he's still a bully. Tomorrow, I'll return to the British Museum and see about my job. I can't stay here relying on that hateful man. I was a fool to ever come here. Alexander was right._

The thought shocked him, but he could not deny it. More miserable than ever, he decided to go to sleep. If Alexander's voice returned to him when he left here, so be it. He would deal with his madness the way he had always dealt with anything: on his own.

* * *

On the other side of the apartment, Henry had dressed again. He sat in the drawing room brooding over a glass of gin. The elderly man that served as his butler entered the room.

“Misters Beechworth and Paternoster to see you, sir.”

“Send them in.”

Two men entered the drawing room. The first man was fairly young, with fair skin, black hair, and bright dark eyes. The second man was very tall, and held himself straight-backed despite his advanced age. Henry offered them seats and they took them. There was silence while the butler fetched drinks for the two men, and then they were shut inside the room.

“How goes it with the survivor of Brennenburg?” the elderly man asked. His voice was soft and hollow, yet unmistakably present; it sounded exactly like a strong wind whistling through the hollows of dead trees.

“He is difficult,” Henry fumed. “As I expected from our childhood, he is a self-righteous, self-absorbed brat who prizes his own misfortunes above that of all others.”

“I care not about his personality.” The elderly man waved a hand. “Has he said anything else of significance?”

“Well, no, not yet.”

“It has been more than a fortnight,” the younger man pointed out. “You've even moved him into your home. Are you lovers?”

“Not yet,” Henry said tersely. “Not that that is any of your business, Beechworth.”

“It is if you are able to extract the information that we need from pillow talk.”

“I doubt that would loosen the man's tongue,” Henry said. “He is very reticent to speak of what happened there, even with me, even now. And he fears what he believes to be his hallucinations of Alexander von Brennenburg.”

“And yet you denied him the tongue-loosening opium,” the elder man, Paternoster, said. He nodded at Henry's shocked expression. “Yes, I have been watching you. You have forbidden the man from indulging in opium, though it would most likely make his role that much easier to fulfill. Tonight, you had almost broken through his defenses—you know how to, we both know you do—and yet you stopped yourself. Why?”

“If you have been watching, then you know the kind of coward the man is,” Henry said. “Daniel is timid, he always has been. If I push too hard, he'll run.”

“How can he run? He has nowhere to run _to_ ,” Beechworth pointed out. “Besides, you are his psychiatrist. If it came to it, you could have him confined in the asylum where you sometimes consult.”

“The asylum the group owns, you mean,” Henry said.

“The same.”

“I would rather take my time,” Henry said. “If Daniel breaks, no one will get anything from him.”

“He does seem rather fragile,” Paternoster said. He shut his light gray eyes for a minute. At last, he opened them, and declared, “So be it. Continue with this charade of love for the time being. However, if I see the survivor slipping away from you, I will take measures of my own.”

“Right.”

The three men stood. Paternoster swept out of the room like a gust. At the door, Beechworth stopped and turned to Henry.

“It isn't a charade, is it?”

“What isn't?”

“Your love for the survivor—for Daniel,” Beechworth said knowingly. “What you told him was the truth, wasn't it? You've loved him since childhood.”

Henry said nothing.

“If you do love him, then you should hurry to get Mr. Paternoster what he desires,” Beechworth said. “Out of the entire group, you are the only one Daniel is not expendable to. Remember that.”

Henry was left drained of energy by the visit. He stopped at Daniel's door and knocked. There was no response. It was locked, but he used the master apartment key to unlock it. He found Daniel asleep in bed, clutching a pillow in his arms as if for dear life.

“Coward,” Henry said. He sat on the bed and stroked Daniel's hair. “You little coward.”

Henry kissed Daniel's face, and left him. He retired to his own bedroom, and set about preparing for bed. Even when he was under the covers, he remained awake for a great deal of time.

_They are right, I am taking far too long,_ he thought. _Daniel's memories will fade, as will his connection to the Orb and Alexander. It is a miracle that the amnesia mixture washed out of his blood and left him with so many memories. A miracle for the group and a tragedy for Daniel. If he knew nothing, he would not be so important to us. If he knew nothing, I could simply have brought him home as a lover. Now I am charged with taking full advantage of his links to Brennenburg, and I find myself hesitant to. I do not wish to lose him as a lover. I do not wish to lose_ him _, no matter how infuriating he is. If it came to a choice between Daniel and the group, I would choose him._

_But it is not that simple. There would be nowhere for us to run to, if I went against the group. The only way I can save him is to exploit his link to Alexander and see to it that he survives the process. To do that, I'll have to push him hard. There is no other way to do it._

_I wish I could say that the thought does not excite me, but it does. I only hope he can forgive me when all is said and done._ _I'm not certain I will be able to let him go, now that he is finally mine._

** End of Chapter Five **


	6. Chapter 6

October 17, 1839

Despite their argument, Daniel did not immediately move out of Henry's home. Henry apologized profusely and held him tenderly, and Daniel's resolve weakened. He did go to the British Museum and managed to procure a different job there; he would help with domestic research, rather than join exploration teams. He would return to work in November, and the idea of having stability and independence again calmed him. By the time he told Henry the news, he had forgotten all about their dispute. For his part, Henry did not bring up the idea of having sex even once.

One of the reasons that Daniel did not want to give Henry up just yet was his decision to face his family. He wrote Hazel back and arranged to visit his childhood home. Henry agreed to come with him. They left in Henry's carriage early that morning.

“If you take one more drink from that flask of gin, you'll be drunk by the time we arrive,” Henry warned. “Here, have a mint. Do you want to go home smelling like a gin mill?”

Daniel returned the flask to his inner jacket pocket, chagrined.

“I don't want to go home at all, to be honest,” he said. “But I suppose it's too late to turn back now.”

“We're practically there already.”

“Damn it all.”

They exited the carriage soon after. The familiar streets of genteel buildings just down the street from the shops brought a wave of memories upon Daniel. He recalled walking them with his sister, sometimes having to support her home when she fell weak. He even remembered running down these streets from the school, terrified that Henry was chasing him. He told Henry this now.

“I never did chase you, Daniel.”

“Didn't you?”

“No, not once,” Henry said, amused. “Did you really expect me to follow you all the way home? Why the hell would I?”

“I don't know. I always thought you were on my heels. After I hit you with the rock, I truly thought you would come to my home, to my bedroom, and get me.”

Henry laughed riotously. Daniel sullenly glowered at him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Henry said, not quite sincerely. “God, man, I'm sorry I caused you so much terror. But how could you think I would break into your house? In any case, I never would have gotten past your father.”

Was there a flicker of anger in Henry's eyes just then? Daniel had no chance to ponder it before it was gone. Henry brushed on ahead, and Daniel followed. They went into the building where Daniel had grown up, and up to an apartment on the second floor. Daniel took a deep breath, and knocked.

The door was opened by a painfully thin elderly woman. She wore plain black dress, and her hair was severely pinned up against her head. Her wan eyes widened just slightly upon seeing Daniel, then the light went out of them again.

“Daniel. So, you've come.”

“Yes, mother,” Daniel said stiffly. “This is my good friend, Henry Bedloe.”

“Good friend?” She looked up at Henry. “You used to scream your good friend's name out in the night during your terrors. Well, boys grow into men. Please, do come inside.”

_I can't believe she remembers,_ Daniel thought, irritated. _It's a good thing that I warned Henry that her mind is half gone. It's still mortifying, though._

_Screamed my name in the night, did he?_ Henry noted. _I'll have him doing that again soon, for different reasons._

Henry looked around sharply, but there was no sign of Daniel's father. He remembered a very tall man, refined for all his brutality. He had been respected for his stoically pious rearing of his family, and his dedication to righteous discipline. Henry had seen the scars of that righteousness often enough on Daniel's back recently. Henry's hand twitched from the urge to ball into a fist.

They met Hazel in the parlor. She beamed the moment her eyes fell on Daniel. She resembled Daniel and their mother greatly: fine regular features, bright but broken eyes, a fair complexion tending towards pallor, brown hair. Now that his health had recovered, it made Hazel's sallow tinge and the dark circles under her eyes stand out more. She moved with the delicate care of the invalid, but her hug around her brother's shoulders was strong enough. Daniel hugged her back, a bit more tightly than Henry thought was appropriate. _They look like survivors of some catastrophic war,_ Henry thought. _War orphans in adulthood._

“Oh, Daniel, I am so pleased that you came! I haven't seen you in an age!” Hazel said breathlessly. “I heard that you've been unwell for ever so long! You look quite exhausted. Are you recovering well? Have you been sleeping well?”

“Y-yes, yes,” Daniel said. “That is, I am. Recovering. And sleeping. Er, this is my good friend, Henry Bedloe. He's been so kind as to help me in my recovery.”

Hazel looked up at him and the smile fell from her lips. She looked at Daniel in alarm, then back at Henry, pale. _Damn! She remembers him well! I should have warned her. Why didn't I think of that?_

“G-good day, Mr. Bedloe,” Hazel stammered. She offered up a hand weakly. “I … am amazed, to be frank. The two of you were … quite contentious in youth.”

“Boys grow into men,” Daniel quoted his mother hastily. “Henry is a doctor now, a psychiatrist.”

Henry had the decency to only take Hazel's hand briefly, and did not let his lips quite touch her skin. She drew her hand back too quickly for politeness' sake. She gave Daniel a quizzical look, but he ignored it. There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Well! It's so wonderful to have you home again, Daniel,” Hazel said. She turned to him fully, apparently having decided to ignore Henry altogether. “How is the museum? Have you had any wonderful adventures?”

Daniel paled. Hazel's confusion grew. There was another pause. This time, it was broken by their mother. She entered and told Hazel that Xavier had arrived. Hazel fled from the room. When she returned, she had a dignified man on her arm. Now it was Daniel's turn to spurn his sibling's companion. Their introduction was excruciatingly tense. By this point, Hazel was completely bewildered.

They all sat with drinks, save Hazel, who only sipped water. Henry kept Daniel from having to speak with Mr. Mandus by discussing current events with him. Mandus was affable and knowledgeable, and the two men made easy conversation. Daniel described his travels as sparsely as possible to his sister.

Then Daniel's father arrived. His appearance shocked Henry and Daniel—for the man was in a wheelchair! Though he still held an air of righteous dignity, he was gaunt, white-haired, just another old man. Henry struggled to suppress a grin.

“Daniel.”

“Father.”

“So, why have you come back this time?” Daniel's father asked. “If you need money, you can never mind about that, you won't get any. As if it wasn't enough that you've wasted thousands of pounds on that worthless education, you've drawn yourself into debt with those rubbish travels of yours. Africa! Prussia! What were you thinking, languishing in such ungodly places looking for ancient pieces of stone?”

Despite the old man's frailty, Daniel's shoulders hunched at his words. He looked like a dog waiting for a beating.

“Father, please,” Hazel begged timidly. “Daniel has only come to meet Xavier before the wedding, and because I asked to see him. I wanted to see that he was safe. He's been ill.”

“You are ill, Hazel; Daniel is merely weak,” the old man said. “Look at him, coming here with a man on his arm instead of a wife. Make your visit and then leave. I cannot stand the sight of you.”

With that, he wheeled himself out of the parlor. Soon after, they heard a door all but slam shut. The inescapable silence ensnared them once more. His face burning, Daniel helped himself to a large glass from the first bottle he could grab. He lingered at the bar for a while, his back to them, and Henry saw a hand swipe at his eyes.

“Daniel—”

“No. No, it's fine,” Daniel said. He drank the liquor at a rapid pace. “It's fine. In fact, I'm glad he's here. I have to speak with him.”

“Daniel, don't.”

Daniel shook off Henry's placating hand and rushed out of the room. Henry sat down, thinking furiously. He engaged Xavier in conversation again, though he scarcely paid attention to it. Hazel was equally distracted, and stared at her hands most of the time. She never once looked at Henry. Henry could not really blame her.

Down the hallway, Daniel stalked into his father's study without knocking. The man wheeled around from his desk furiously. Daniel shut the door, and the two men glared at one another for a long moment.

“Why are you allowing Hazel to marry?”

The old man was taken aback by the question. He had obviously been expecting a different kind of conflict. He lifted himself out of his chair with the use of a walking stick, still towering over Daniel by some inches.

“What are you on about now?” he asked wearily. “What sort of question is that? Why wouldn't I allow Hazel to marry? It's what women are meant for, isn't it?”

“Hazel is a very delicate girl, she's been ill her entire life,” Daniel said. “Have you thought of what marriage might do to her? Do you know anything about this Mandus character at all?”

“Yes, he comes from a very successful and respected family,” the old man said. “Why a man such as he would want a wasted slip of a girl like your sister, I do not know, but he does. She says she loves him, as well, not that that matters one wit. I never expected to marry her off, but fortune has smiled on her.”

“Fortune?” Daniel echoed incredulously. “How is it fortunate that such an innocent, such a pure girl is to be forced into womanhood? How is it fortunate that her frail body may be forced to carry a child? She could die, father!”

“Healthier women have died birthing, and what of it all?” the old man asked. “That is what women are meant for.”

“How can you say that!”

Daniel's father took a close look at him. His eyes traveled up and down his son's body. He scrutinized his face, the changes he saw there. Daniel wanted to bolt, but he stood his ground.

“You've gone mad,” the old man said plainly.

“I've not gone mad,” Daniel said, though the observation rattled him. “You're the one who's mad, putting your daughter into such danger.”

“That is her choice, and she is the better for it,” the old man said. “Neither is it any of your business. Who are you to judge her decision, or my choices? You were nothing but a waste of a son, a disappointment such as no man should bear, and now you're mad, as well. Be glad that I even allow you to set foot in my home, Daniel.”

“You can keep your blasted home,” Daniel spat. “But father, please, turn away this Mandus. Do not let Hazel risk her life for him.”

“I will not.”

“Father, I beg of you!”

“No!” the old man snapped. “Go home, Daniel, you're drunk. This affair has nothing to do with you. If you cannot be happy for your sister and wish her well, then just go.”

“I will not!”

“Go, damn you! I said that I can't stand to see your face, didn't I? Leave!”

“Not until you listen to me, damn it!”

Daniel tugged his father's arm, much to the old man's surprise. For the first time since Brennenburg, violence flooded Daniel's bloodstream. His eyes lit with malice, and the memories of torture became a balm. His father was only flesh, after all, and old, weak flesh at that. The things he could do to this man, the things he had learned …

“What are you doing? Unhand me, you insolent cur!”

“No,” Daniel growled. “No, you listen to me, father. You know what I say is right. You know that I am right. Do _not_ refuse me.”

“I do refuse you! Get off of me! I said, get back!”

His father hit him with his walking stick and shoved him off. The effort made him lose his balance, and his legs gave out. He crashed loudly into a bookshelf, spilling leather-bound tomes over the floor. His wife came running into the room at the commotion, soon followed by the others. Henry put a hand on Daniel's shoulder.

“What have you done?” Daniel's mother asked. She knelt beside her husband. “Oh my Lord. Darling, are you all right? Darling? His heart! Oh, Hazel, fetch the pills! What have you done, Daniel?”

The old man was in bad shape. Daniel stared mutely as everyone rushed about him. He felt that he was underwater. His ears were ringing and his head buzzed. His blood was unbearably hot, and his hands twitched, remembering certain motions …

Henry bid Hazel to take care of her brother, and helped the old woman with her husband. Hazel took Daniel gently by the hand and led him back to the parlor. She gave him his drink and he sipped it mechanically. Hazel was speaking, but he could not comprehend her. She sat by his side silently, gripping his hand tightly. An unknown amount of time passed.

* * *

Hours. Hours must have gone by. When the scream sounded, the morning had been lost to afternoon. Daniel looked around, dazedly wondering how he had gotten home today. Was this even his home anymore? He could have sworn that he had moved. Or was that only a dream?

The voices soon became distinguishable. A moment later, he could comprehend their words again. Hazel had left his side. He was alone. In the hallway, he heard snatches of conversation. Another person had come, a doctor. He heard talk of a massive stroke, a long time of poor health, the inevitability of—

Then, Daniel was looking up at his mother's drawn face. Voices followed behind her. He saw her hand move but was still stunned when her palm struck his cheek. He heard Hazel shriek at her mother, and Mandus trying to calm his fiancee. His cheek was stricken again before Henry gently ushered the woman away from Daniel, and the doctor took hold of her. Then Henry was sitting beside him. His warm hand made Daniel's face sting all the more. Through it all, Daniel remained remote, unable to even cry.

“This is your fault, Daniel!” his mother shrieked at him. “After giving your father so much grief of disappointment, you finally leave, only to come back to bring him to his death! You are an evil child! The Lord forgive me, but he should have let me birth you a stillborn!”

“That's enough!”

Henry's roar cut through all the commotion like the report of a cannon. Silence fell. Henry helped the stunned Daniel to his feet and took him by the arm.

“He's in shock, as much shock as any of you are,” he said. “I won't have my patient abused. We are leaving.”

“Go!” the widow shouted. “Go, and never come back, Daniel! Be gone! Oh, just be gone already. Oh … please … just be gone.”

Hazel was sobbing into Mandus' arm. Daniel managed to apologize to her before Henry forced him on ahead. They left the building and took refuge in Henry's carriage. Daniel's eyes were glazed. He did not speak or move throughout the entire ride. Henry had to guide him back to his apartment.

Back home, Henry was as gentle with Daniel as if he were made of glass. He brought him to his bedroom immediately, and had to undress him himself. Daniel sat on the edge of his bed in his dressing gown now, staring nowhere. Henry touched his reddened cheek, and checked his pulse; it was oddly steady.

“I'm not sorry,” Daniel finally spoke. He looked up and met Henry's eyes evenly. “I'm not sorry that I killed him.”

“You didn't kill him, Daniel,” Henry said. “It was an accident.”

“No, I did it, I murdered him,” Daniel stated. “I murdered him like I murdered Alexander. And I'm not sorry.”

_He sounds like a defiant child, yet he speaks of murder,_ Henry thought.

“In fact—” A strange, unnatural smile crossed Daniel's lips. His normally handsome face took on an ugly cast of malice, and a queer light shone in his eyes. “In fact, I'm _happy_ that I did it.”

Henry's mouth tightened, but he did not respond. This was it. This was the push that Daniel had needed. If he let him carry on this way, the group would be able to get their blasted information. He had to allow this, even if it greatly disturbed him.

“I killed him, and I'm _glad_!” Daniel exclaimed. “Why should I regret it? He deserved it! They both did! I'm happy that I murdered them! I'm happy!”

Yet when Daniel laughed, Henry could no longer stand it. That demented, rough laughter issuing from this poor wretched man was too much. He gave Daniel's unmarked cheek a sharp slap.

“Stop it,” he said. “Daniel, stop.”

Daniel cried out horribly, and fell into tears. Henry wondered just how many times he had ended up comforting him over the past fortnight, and once again took him into his arms.

“The Shadow is gone, so why am I still bringing death with me wherever I go?” Daniel cried. “Is it me? Only me? Have I always been that way? I won't mourn my father, but Hazel, oh, poor Hazel … What have I done? I've murdered my own father.”

“It was not your fault, Daniel.”

“Of course it was! It always is! My fault!” Daniel shouted. “No wonder my father always hated me! I can't even blame him anymore! There's something wrong with me. There always has been. He just saw it first. I'm some sort of-of _monster_!”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“No, it's true. I am. Oh God in heaven, I am.”

Henry held him and saw him through the worst of his hysteria. He gave him a sedative and lay beside him until he was calm. He tried to get him to eat, but Daniel refused. After a while, he fell into the deep slumber of trauma.

* * *

Daniel woke up alone and in the dark. He felt like a man wrested from the grave. He heard rain falling on glass windowpanes. The darkness enfolded him and he stumbled out of bed. He made for the hallway, from which there was always a lighted room in view, but the door was locked. Frowning, he rattled the doorknob. Did Henry have another key to this room? Why would he lock it?

Daniel fumbled around the dark for his key, but he could not find it. He knocked things over, threw things on the floor, but it was nowhere to be found. He searched instead for a candle and matches, but there were none. A sharp, metallic tang in his mouth preceded a wave of fear.

_'He's locked you in, Daniel.'_

Daniel whipped around, but he could only make out dim shadows. Every time one shifted, he turned to it. Did he want to see what was in them? But if he did not face it, he would have to turn his back to it.

_'You need not fear me, Daniel,'_ Alexander's dry voice said. _'I'm not the one that's locked you in—this time.'_

Daniel backed very slowly away. His back hit the door and he rattled it again.

_'I told you not to trust that man.'_

The voice sounded directly next to his ear. Daniel pounded on the door, shouting for Henry, for a servant, for anyone. He kicked and pounded the door, trying even to break it down, but it did not budge. He ran to the window, knocking into furniture and bruising himself. But alas, the windows in this room did not open. He tried to make out the streetlights, but it was foggy tonight. All he could see were dim spots of light, unreachable as the sun.

_'What will you do, Daniel? Break the glass? Scream into the night? Perhaps you really have gone mad.'_

Daniel cried out and slumped down onto the floor beneath the window. He clutched his head in his hands, knees curled up to his chest. All around him, the shadows seethed and whispered.

“No, no, no, no!” he moaned. “You're dead. You're dead. You can't be here. You're dead. You can't be here.”

_'But I am. Just be grateful that your father is not. I have to say, I am impressed, Daniel. You manage to cast quite a shadow of your own, don't you?'_

“I didn't mean to,” Daniel whispered. “It was an accident.”

_'Was it? Come now, you didn't lie to that man, don't lie to me. I was your friend before he was, remember?'_

“You're not my friend! I hate you! You bastard!” Daniel screamed. “Go away! Leave me alone! Just go away already, Alexander!”

_'Unlike your treacherous almost-lover and your family, I won't ever leave you, Daniel.'_

“No, no! Noooooo!”

Footsteps thumped in the hall, and finally the door opened. Daniel froze, bracing himself. He expected the Shadow or some other monstrosity to burst in upon him. It would almost be a relief to be ended. But no, it was only Henry. He spotted Daniel on the floor and knelt beside him. Light from the hallway spilled in after him.

“Whatever is the matter?” Henry asked. “You're freezing and trembling. Here, come back to bed. What happened?”

“You trapped me in here!” Daniel shouted, fighting off Henry's grasp. “Why? Why would you do such a thing to me? Why would you shut me up alone in the dark? Were you trying to punish me?”

“No, of course not,” Henry said. “I had to step out for a while this evening, and I was afraid you might go somewhere improper. You were sleeping, I thought that I would return before you woke.”

“Don't ever do that to me again! Don't leave me alone in the dark! Please!”

“I'm sorry. I won't do it ever again.”

_'He lies,'_ Alexander's voice whispered in Daniel's mind.

The candles were lit and Daniel was settled back into bed. Henry injected him with a powerful sedative. The lethargy was welcome. Daniel wanted to drift back to sleep, but Henry would not hear of him refusing dinner. He soon brought him a tray of food, and sat to make sure that Daniel ate.

“I've heard his voice again,” Daniel told Henry. “Alexander.”

“I see. What does he say?”

“He taunts me, the same as ever,” Daniel sighed. “He says he won't ever leave me. My father said that I had gone mad. Am I truly mad, Henry?”

“You're ill, Daniel, that is all,” Henry said. “The more you worry about it, the worse it will be. Let me take care of you.”

“You shouldn't bother,” Daniel said. “I am damned for a patricide. There is no saving me.”

“That is not true.”

Daniel shook his head hopelessly. After he finished eating, he requested to be left alone. Henry gave him a worried look, but honored his wishes. Daniel sank back into the bed, but he could not sleep.

_I can't. I can't live like this. I know Henry means to protect me, but how can he? He never gives me enough of the sedatives, and he scolds me when I'm drunk. What am I, a child? I don't care if he loves me, how dare he treat me this way? I'll end up his prisoner here. Being locked in was too much like being trapped in Brennenburg. I have to get out of here. I have to go._

Daniel climbed out of bed, and was pleased to find it was only late evening. He dressed and tidied himself hastily. In the hallway, he cautiously made his way to the front door. Fortunately, Henry did not appear to stop him.

On the rainy streets, Daniel took a cab to his old address. He had given up his rooms a week ago, but it was from here that he could find his destination. He mistrusted the fog-misted shadows, so the walk was agony, but at last he found it: the opium den. What sort of exotic madness would he find here?

Daniel was ushered inside by a furtively quiet Chinese man. The matter of price and quantity was soon settled at a shabby desk. Then, he went through the small lobby to the main room. He had expected loud delirium, but found only a smoky room draped with silk curtains. Chinese instruments delicately fluted and plucked out a gentle melody. Oriental wooden screens were laid out to form small booths where smokers lounged dreamily, long pipes dangling from their limp hands. Daniel sat down in an empty 'booth' upon soft, luxurious cushions. A young, shady-looking English lad showed him how to use the stuff, and then he was left to his own devices.

Daniel was too eager, and smoked as rapidly as he could. He coughed several times, but soon his throat became accustomed to the harshness. His mind whirled drastically, and for a moment, he was frightened. Then languor came, and he let himself fall into an oblivion of dreams.

_The light again, that light … the blue … flicker …_

The visions were similar to those the Orb had granted him, but much clearer. He beheld those amazing cities of immense scope and unnatural angles without fear. Even when he glanced into windows and not-quite-human things gazed back, he was merely curious. He felt like an adventurer again, a great explorer of unknown lands.

_'So, you finally escape the bonds of your sad little world, and you come here?'_ Alexander mused. _'Hehehe. Well, I suppose that's only natural.'_

Daniel was not bothered by Alexander's presence at his side, even if it was no longer human. In fact, he was happy to have a friend with him. Weren't they friends? They had been through so very much together, after all. Alexander had taught him so many things. True, he intended to betray him in the end, but Daniel had betrayed him instead. Perhaps they could let bygones be bygones. Daniel certainly would like to see more of Alexander's real home, this impossible, strange world.

Yes …

Yes …

Why not?

Why …

… not …

* * *

When Daniel woke up, he was being shaken roughly. He blinked himself back into earthly reality and looked up. Henry knelt over him, his face a mask of barely-constrained rage. For once, his icy blue eyes were fiery.

“Wake up. Wake up, damn you,” Henry seethed. He turned to bark at someone out of sight, “Where is that bloody water?”

The water was brought, and sloshed into Daniel's face. The coldness cut through his drugged stupor, and he sputtered in complaint. Henry dragged him to his feet mercilessly and yanked him through the opium den. On the street, Daniel was shoved into a carriage. He leaned against Henry and dozed placidly again.

“Let me sleep, Henry, oh just let me sleep,” he pleaded. “I went there again, and this time I wasn't even afraid. I went there, to the place of the blue light, even without the Orb. It's not so horrible, it's rather beautiful. Alexander showed me so many things, so many … ”

Henry looked down at him, torn. This was what they needed. So, opium had unlocked it after all. He should encourage Daniel's habit. He should use this weakness for the sake of bringing priceless knowledge to the group. He knew that.

But Henry also knew that Daniel would be destroyed in the process, and he could not abide that. When he had found Daniel gone, a panic unlike anything he had ever experienced struck him. He had feared him dead, or lost forever. Then the thought of the opium den had crossed his mind, and he had found Daniel there. With the fear gone, rage had overtaken Henry. He was furious that Daniel would disobey him, furious that he would cause him such anguish, furious that he would willingly destroy himself. It was the old fury of childhood, and he was even more furious that Daniel had brought back that dumb savage anger.

Daniel was asleep by the time they arrived home. Henry had to support and drag him up to his apartment. Daniel begged to be allowed to sleep, but Henry forced smelling salts beneath his nose, and made him drink cold water.

As Daniel's consciousness sharpened, fear came with it. Henry's manner was very rough, and the fury had not left his face. When Daniel had tried to push away the glass of water, Henry had given his hand a slap. _It's there, isn't it?_ Daniel realized. _The boy that Henry was is lurking there, just beneath the surface. Funny that I can only see it now. The pure opium, it opens your eyes to everything …_

“It's my business,” Daniel said defensively. “I told you that before, that if I chose to try it, it would be my business. I'm sorry if you're upset, but I'm a grown man, and I made my choice. Now, I've had a very long day and night. I'm going to bed.”

While Henry was still shocked by this declaration, Daniel headed to his room. He pulled off his boots and removed his jacket, taking a moment to breathe in the heady odor of opium still clinging to it. He yanked off his stockings and ascot. Just as he opened his shirt, Henry barged into his room.

“Upset? You're sorry if I am upset?” he asked. He took Daniel by the shoulders and shook him violently. “I'm more than upset, damn you! I thought the worst! I thought you'd gone! And I find you in that filthy place? The very place that I told you not to go?”

“You're not my father! I don't have a father anymore!” Daniel snapped. He was too annoyed at having been woken to be cautious. “Let go of me! I'm your guest, not your charge. I won't be trapped in here! I won't!”

“And I won't let you go!”

Daniel's eyes widened. Did Henry really intend to just keep him here? Was he actually the one who was mad?

“I won't let you go kill yourself, that is,” Henry amended. His grip on Daniel's shoulders softened. “Daniel, please. Stop this foolishness. I understand that you're hurting, but it's not worth dying over.”

“I don't intend to die,” Daniel said. “But a little, once in a while, it can't hurt. It's much better than all your pathetic sedatives! It's even more effective than that diluted laudanum. I can have peace, Henry, don't you see?”

“It's a false peace, believe me, and it will kill you. See reason, man!”

“I'll do as I please,” Daniel said shortly. “It doesn't concern you.”

Daniel's haughty attitude broke Henry. He backhanded the man clear across the face. Daniel was knocked to the floor by the force of it. He clutched his face, looking up at Henry with tears and horror in his eyes. _There, that's much better,_ Henry thought. He stifled the urge to kick the other man. _He's lovely when he's beaten down a bit. It isn't bullying if it's for his own good._

Henry pulled Daniel from the floor.

“Henry, no! I thought you'd changed!” Daniel cried desperately. “Let me go! Please, don't!”

Daniel fought and struggled as Henry dragged him to his own bedroom. As they passed Henry's dresser, Daniel took hold of a vase. He crashed it over Henry's head and used the moment to break free. He ran, and Henry pounded after him. The front door was locked, so Daniel fled into the parlor. _A weapon. A weapon. I need a weapon._

Henry confronted Daniel in the parlor. Daniel had a fire poker in his hand. Henry laughed in astonishment.

“It's been a long time since I've seen that side of you, Daniel.” He brushed his hair back, revealing the scar Daniel had given him so long ago. “You won't catch me off guard this time.”

“You don't know me anymore,” Daniel said. “You don't know what I'm capable of. Just let me go, Henry. I'll leave, and you'll never have to see me again.”

“I told you, I will not let you go. I've waited years to have you.”

“I mean it, Henry. I will kill you.” Daniel raised the poker. “I can do it, you know. I've killed others. So many others.”

“Tell me, Daniel, were your victims loose, or were they in chains? Were they bound and weakened by captivity? You can see full well that I am not,” Henry grinned. “Do you really think that you can kill _me_?”

Henry came towards him, and Daniel swung the fire poker. For his size, Henry was remarkably fast. He let his arm catch the blow, grunting. Daniel swung it back and then toward his head. This time, Henry managed to totally evade it, and he caught Daniel by his wrists. He squeezed until Daniel's hands went numb, and the poker slipped from his grasp.

“You really tried to kill me,” Henry chuckled. “A vicious thing you are, always aiming for my head like that. I deserved it back then, but now? All I've tried to do is protect you, and this is what you do? You're a guest in my own home, and you attack me?”

Daniel protested and struggled, but it was futile. He was dragged to Henry's bedroom against his will. A sick knot of dread twisted in his stomach. He could already feel Henry's fists slamming into his body, his boots kicking him while he writhed in pain on the ground. How could he have ended up back at Bedloe's mercy? After all these years, after all he had been through, to end up pummeled by his bully yet again …

“Please, just … just don't break anything,” Daniel muttered. “Even when we were boys, you never did break any bones, so please.”

Henry locked them in his bedroom, never relinquishing his hold on Daniel. He pocketed the key and turned to him. Daniel's face was grimly resigned.

“Don't worry, I don't intend to break any part of you other than your pride,” Henry said. He pulled Daniel along towards the bed. “I told you, I have learned to control my mind, and hence its base desires. Not only that, but I have refined those violent urges into a kind of art form. You understand that, don't you? You _of all people_ should appreciate the artistry of causing pain.”

Daniel bowed his head, and the last of the fight went out of him. Henry removed his own ascot and bound Daniel's hands together with it, then tied it to the iron-wrought headboard. He maneuvered Daniel until he was was halfway bent over the bed, his legs draped down to the floor, buttocks propped up just at the edge of the mattress. The familiar position made his face go bright red.

“What is this?” Daniel asked. “What are you doing?”

“I should think that would be fairly obvious.”

Daniel craned his neck over his shoulder. Henry returned to his view, without his jacket and having rolled up his sleeves. He set down a dark bundle on the bed out of Daniel's sight, then sat down beside him. He unfastened Daniel's breeches and slipped them off. Though he had dressed and undressed Daniel several times, it felt different this time. Daniel's blush deepened as Henry appreciatively squeezed his bared buttocks

“What is this?” Daniel complained, struggling pointlessly. “This is ridiculous. I'm a grown man. At least fight me like one.”

“I already have, and you've already lost,” Henry reminded him. He continued kneading the man's soft round cheeks. “Would you rather I pummeled you as I did when we were children?”

“Well, yes, honestly, compared to this.”

“That's too bad.”

Henry lifted a hand and brought it down upon Daniel's bottom. It was far gentler than any punishment since Daniel's early childhood, but he balked at it regardless. He claimed to be too old for such a thing, and whined that he felt ridiculous. Naturally, Henry ignored him, and steadily spanked his bottom until it began to sting.

“You're a cruel man, Henry,” Daniel sulked. “What are you punishing me for, anyway?”

“Going to the opium den.”

“That's not very fair.”

“Why not? It was a stupid thing to do.”

Daniel regretted speaking as the intensity of the spanks increased. He struggled and kicked. The outrage was unbearable.

“But I'm a grown man! You can't treat me this way!” he protested. “How can you do this to me? It's humiliating!”

“The humility will do you good.”

“My father just died!”

“You'll use anything to wriggle out of a punishment, won't you?”

The impatience was clear in Henry's voice. He stood, and reached for something. When Daniel saw his hand, it was wrapped around the handle of a riding crop. Within seconds, the riding crop had smacked across Daniel's bottom, bringing a line of fiery pain with it.

“Ow! Henry, that hurt!”

“You were the same in school, just as weak and cowardly,” Henry scowled. He struck the man again, no longer holding his strength back. “No? Oh yes, Daniel, you were. Do you know when it was that I first noticed you? It was that day when you made such a fuss over being punished. I forgot what it was that you did, but I remember that you refused to take responsibility. You went blue in the face trying to blame another boy, though you had done the thing with your own hands. The teacher finally went to you and bent you over your own desk. You didn't cry, but it took you so long to stop trying to blame the other boy that the teacher was sweating from exertion.”

“But you said that you loved me—oww! Ow! You said that you did since you first noticed me. So—ow! Was that a lie?”

“No, I loved you from that moment,” Henry said. He paused for a moment, rubbing a hand over the man's reddened buttocks. “I remember how gratifying it was to finally see the teacher punish you. You blushed so fiercely, and I could see you squirming and flinching beneath your breeches. I was so very jealous of the teacher. I wanted to be the one spanking you, you see, just like I am doing right now.”

“So that's what you meant when you said you finally 'have' me. You bast—ah, ow!”

“Seeing you spanked that day, I had an erection for the first time.” Henry snapped the crop across Daniel's bottom neatly. “I was furious at myself for it, but I could not help it. In the dead of night, I thought back to the sight of you, and I pleasured myself. I was ashamed and afraid of being what my mother called my father, but I could not help it. I wanted you in ways I scarcely even understood yet.”

“You're a degenerate.”

“Says the torturer.” Henry recrossed the darkest bruises, admiring the deeper shade of scarlet they turned. Daniel writhed frantically. “The murderer. Tell me, Daniel, did you really commit all those acts of violence without feeling the sensuality of it? Go on. Tell me that you never felt yourself grow hard with the power of it, that you never masturbated to sadism.”

Daniel buried his face in the sheets and was silent. All was quiet save for the chiding smacks of the whipping. _They are flat and trite compared to the gunshot crack of a bullwhip_ , Daniel thought. _I was never good with that, Alexander used it more than I did, but I did find it strangely alluring. I wasn't on the receiving end, of course._

Henry paused and sat on the bed again. His hand smoothed over the crisscross of scarlet bruises lining Daniel's buttocks. Daniel turned his face to look at him, hair plastered to flushed cheeks, eyes bright with tears. Henry smirked and kissed his down-turned mouth. Daniel cringed away for a second, but ended up kissing him back.

“That's more like it,” Henry said. He squeezed Daniel's well-warmed bottom. “Are you contrite now? Are you sorry?”

“Yes, fine, I'm sorry. Will you please untie me now, Henry?”

“Not just yet.” Henry stood again. “After all, I haven't yet punished you for trying to kill me, have I?”

“But I was only—”

Daniel realized that he was excusing himself yet again, and shut his mouth. Henry's story about his childhood cowardice had shamed him worse than the beating had. He had forgotten that incident, pushed it from his mind. _Was I really a coward? I'm starting to remember those days now. Dear God, I was just as weak and pathetic as those prisoners at Brennenburg. To think I scorned them for fearing hideous deaths when I was a boy that could not even face a bully at school or a punishment. No wonder Henry is—_

A resounding whack disrupted Daniel's thoughts, followed by a burst of brilliant pain. He cried out despite himself. Over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Henry holding a thick leather strap. _I may deserve this, but my God, how I wish I had managed to kill him back there!_

Henry did not speak during the strapping, which was severe. Daniel made enough noise for the both of them, in spite of all his efforts to not cry out. He kicked and struggled and cried. It had been many years since he had taken a belting, and it hurt much more than he remembered.

By the time he was untied, Daniel could not lift himself up. He wrapped his arms around his head, still bent over embarrassingly, sobbing. His buttocks and thighs burned with pain, every motion was agony. Henry kissed the back of his neck and rubbed his bottom, though nothing could soothe the pain. Gradually, the strokes became more intimate. Daniel's body betrayed him with its arousal. He found himself in Henry's arms, kissing him fervently. It was slavish and debased, but that only increased his lust.

“So, this is how you like it, is it?” Henry murmured, giving Daniel's sore buttocks a smack. “Rough. I should have guessed. You've never known anything else, have you?”

Daniel shook his head. Henry sat on the edge of the bed, and he was on hand and knee before him. He burrowed his face into Henry's neck, kissing him, sinking his teeth into him. Henry only laughed and petted his head.

“As you like it, Daniel. If I can be anything, I can be rough.”

Henry stood and undressed fully. He climbed onto the bed behind Daniel, pushing his legs further apart. He reached under his pillow and took out a vial of something. He rubbed it across Daniel's buttocks, _into_ them. Daniel shuddered at this invasion, but it was not unpleasant. Henry pushed his head down to the mattress. Daniel gripped the sheets nervously, soothed by murmurs and kisses along his spine.

Then Henry entered him, and he gasped from the shock of it. There was pain, but his back arched to meet it. Henry's hands gripped his buttocks, making the bruises smart all the more, and rocked into him harshly. Daniel yelled out in a frenzy of emotions and sensations.

When they were spent, Daniel's knees gave out from under him. He lay on his stomach, shaking and sweating. Henry patted his buttocks and went to clean up. He returned, put out the candles, and climbed into bed beside Daniel. Daniel crawled up to him, and Henry put an arm around him, kissed the top of his head.

“It was a little like torture,” Daniel said. He yawned, adding, “But I enjoyed it. I think.”

“You think?”

“I felt so many different things that it was hard to tell.”

“Would you do it again?”

“Yes.”

“That's enough, then.” Henry laughed, ruffling Daniel's hair. “If I had known it would get you into bed, I would have whipped you sooner.”

“That isn't why I let you do it. It's only a coincidence.”

“You may as well admit it, Daniel.” Henry kissed him, squeezing his buttocks hard. Daniel's mouth murmured a cry into his. “You enjoyed that.”

“I did not, it _hurt_ , and it was humiliating.”

“You were aroused by it, at least.”

“Well, yes, maybe a little,” Daniel confessed. “What is wrong with me, Henry?”

“You still don't understand?” Henry asked. “You can be so naive sometimes, even now. You have a fixation with and a desire for pain, Daniel. The French call it an idée fixe, I believe, a singular obsession. We are gentlemen savages.”

“I don't understand it at all,” Daniel said. “One would think I've had my fill of suffering.”

“Come now, it's hardly suffering,” Henry said. “Besides, it was for your own good. I'm only trying to protect you, Daniel.”

“Protect me from what?”

“Yourself, of course.”

“From … myself? What do you mean?”

“Never mind, Daniel,” sighed Henry. He kissed his forehead. “It really has been a very long day and night. Go to sleep.”

Daniel yawned, trying to say more. Henry hushed him with a tender kiss. Daniel's eyes swept shut and he could not bring himself to reopen them. Soon, he had entered a fitful but deep sleep.

Henry hugged the man closely to his chest and stroked his arm idly. _How marvelous it felt to finally have Daniel at my mercy. The boy who got away, my first love. It's horribly sentimental, but I can't help it, I love him. Damn it all, I love this selfish man-boy. I never imagined that I, 'of all people', could love another so strongly. It's the same as when I was a boy, pummeling him because I dared not do the things I really wished to do to him. I thought that as a man, I would be over all that. I expected to use him to satisfy my childhood fantasies, and that's all. Now what shall I do? I'm in love, and I hardly even understand it myself. Damn him._

_Never mind. I can take my time learning how to love him. I can take my time protecting him from his own foolishness. Those are not the immediate problems. The immediate problem is the group. If they were watching, they already know that I've ruined their chances of prying Daniel's memories from him through opium. That would have doubtlessly been the easiest way to do it. Because of me, all the knowledge of the Brennenburg survivor may be lost forever. If it is, we'll both be damned. But I can't think that way. I said that I would protect him, and I will: from himself, and from the group. I will save this hapless soul yet—not for his own sake, particularly, but because I love him and I have him and I refuse to lose him again._

** End of Chapter Six **


	7. Chapter 7

October 18, 1839

Daniel awoke feeling rumpled, dirty, and sore. He was alone in bed, and rolled onto his stomach, face turned to the sunlight. The withdrawal from the opium's effects instantly put him in a foul mood. This world was ugly and cruel, it was not good enough. He wanted to go soaring through that other world with Alexander again. He wanted to see things no man had ever dreamed of before. _I found the Orb, after all,_ Daniel thought sleepily. _Am I not entitled to such wonders? I've been touched by other spheres of reality. I'm no common—_

A hand slapped down on his buttocks, and he yelped in pain. He turned from the windows and found Henry standing beside the bed. He was already dressed, bathed, shaved, and combed. His good spirits made Daniel even more morose.

“Good morning, dear Daniel.” Henry leaned down and kissed him. “Out of bed. I've had the servants draw you a hot bath. I thought you might want to soak those bruises before sitting down to breakfast.”

“Can't you just let me sleep?”

“I've waited on you for breakfast long enough.”

Henry lifted Daniel up and helped him down from the bed. _At least he isn't dragging me about like a doll anymore,_ Daniel thought. He glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of purpling bruises mottling his buttocks. He rubbed his bottom, cringing as he tested a raised welt. Perversely fascinated, he went over to the standing mirror and assessed his wounds. His buttocks and upper thighs were garishly bruised, especially across the area that he sat upon ( _Henry must have done that deliberately, the bastard_ ). In addition to his backside, one cheek held a faint bruise from his mother's slap, and the other was marked by Henry's backhand. His arms held multiple marks corresponding to Henry's big hands gripping him. These fresh marks joined the plethora of healing scars from his battle to survive at Brennenburg two months back, and the ancient scars lining his back courtesy of his father.

“I'm a blasted wreck,” Daniel said softly. “Even my hair has these streaks of white. I'm only twenty-four. How did I end up this way?”

“Is that question rhetorical, or am I expected to indulge your self-pity?”

“I wouldn't expect _you_ to understand,” Daniel seethed. He looked at Henry's reflection in the mirror, their gazes met in glass. “Who has ever hurt you?”

“Plenty of people,” Henry said. To Daniel's disbelieving expression, he added, “Oh yes. My mother, of course, and my father by leaving me to her bitter hatred. Before I moved and came to the school we shared, I had quite a hard time of it. Do you really think I would have made myself strong if I weren't afraid of being weak?”

“But you _did_ make yourself strong,” Daniel said. His face darkened as he stared at himself in the mirror again. “I thought that I had, and that was the only good thing about my stay at Brennenburg. For just a short while, I truly believed that I was strong. But now … look at me. I'm pathetic.”

“That's enough reflection, Narcissus. Let's go.”

Henry put a robe over Daniel's shoulders and led him away from the mirror. Daniel shook him off and closed the robe. He was tired of being treated like a child. He wanted to be respected as a man. That was the one aspect of being Alexander's apprentice that he still missed: the idea that he was learning to be as respectable as Alexander. _If only that fiend hadn't just been using me,_ Daniel thought furiously. _I would have gladly done anything he said. I would have shared the power of the Orb with him. But no, that bastard only thought of abandoning me to my fate so that he could return to his godforsaken dimension._

_I miss him._

The thought made Daniel stop short in the hallway, his heart skipping a beat. Henry looked back at him curiously, and he hurried to follow him. He led Daniel to the bathroom where the tub was full of steaming hot water, and left him. Daniel disrobed and sank into the soothing water alone.

_Is that possible? Could it be that I actually miss Alexander?_ Daniel wondered as he soaked. _I did consider us to be friends shortly after we met. I was … happy to have befriended such a man. I know it's horrible, but I enjoyed learning from him. I admired him more than even Professor Herbert._

_'Well, I am far more knowledgeable than your Professor Herbert was.'_

Daniel started at the voice. He tried to stand up in the tub, slipped, and hit his head on the edge of it. Pain rang through his skull and he slipped beneath the water. He came up sputtering, gasping for breath, and there—was Alexander.

Daniel gaped, unable to speak. This was no distorted hallucination, the figure of his former friend was perfectly clear. He stood dressed as regally as ever, looking down at Daniel with his typical patronizing bemusement. Only the edges around Alexander were distorted, as if he were bending reality to his will.

“It's good to see you again, Daniel,” Alexander said. “Whatever our differences, I am willing to forgive you, and I would still call you a friend.”

“Friend? _Friend_? I was never your friend!” Daniel tried to shout, but his voice was hoarse. He gripped the edges of the porcelain tub so hard his knuckles went white. “You used me. You betrayed me!”

“Yes, and then you used and betrayed me back.” Alexander waved a hand callously. “But never mind that now. It is all in the past, isn't that so?”

“And so are you,” Daniel whispered. He shook his head, water droplets flying from his hair; they went right through Alexander. “You're not real. You can't be. I killed you. You're dead. You're dead, you can't be here.”

“Not this again.”

Alexander leaned far forward over the bathtub, bringing his face close to Daniel's. No breath issued from his mouth, nor any scent or warmth. Now that he was close, Daniel saw that his image wavered, went in and out of focus. He seemed more of a communication from another realm than a simple hallucination.

“Do you see me, Daniel? Look well,” Alexander ordered. “I am here. I am real.”

“If that's true, then what do you want?” Daniel asked. “What do you want from me? Are you here to punish me?”

“Oh, no, Daniel, no, not at all,” Alexander chuckled. “Quite the opposite. I truly do mean to forgive you.”

Daniel did not know what to say. The elder man straightened up again. His eyes traveled up and down Daniel's naked body. Daniel drew his knees up to his chest insecurely.

“What a state you're in,” Alexander remarked distastefully. “I told you not to trust that man. Why do you still remain in his home? Do you truly enjoy being treated like a wayward child?”

Daniel said nothing.

“Well, I suppose I didn't treat you very differently,” Alexander reasoned. “Yes, I could see the yearning for a father figure in your eyes the moment I met you. I took advantage of that quite perfectly, if I do say so myself. However, I missed one crucial aspect, and that was my undoing.”

“What was that?”

“Discipline,” Alexander said. “I didn't realize that you wanted, and needed, discipline. You were so naive, so guiltless and pitiful when you came to me. I never suspected that you were the kind of man capable of losing himself to a gluttony for power. If I had only known, I would have taken care to keep you humbled, the way this man Bedloe is doing now.”

“Why does everyone always want to hurt me?” Daniel lamented.

“In my case, it would have been more of a necessity than a desire,” Alexander said. “In Bedloe's case, it's both. As for your departed father, I suspect he merely hated you.”

“Have you been watching me since Brennenburg?” Daniel asked. “You seem to know everything.”

“I've been inside your mind, Daniel, it only stands to reason that I know everything about you,” Alexander explained. “You humans have such small, obvious minds. It took no time at all to discern the sum of you.”

“And are you inside my mind now?”

“Obviously.”

“Well, get out of it!” Daniel exclaimed. “I killed you for a reason! You made me into a monster and left me for dead! You may forgive me, but I will _never_ forgive you!”

“Must you always be so melodramatic?” Alexander said flatly. “I am with you for a reason, Daniel. Before you spurn my friendship, you should at least hear what I have to say.”

“Then say it and be gone, damn you!”

“You can't trust Bedloe,” Alexander said gravely. “Do you hear me, Daniel? He is using you, and not only for sex.”

“He loves me.”

“Whether he does or not is a moot point,” Alexander said. “Do you really think it was mere coincidence that brought him into your life the day after you arrived back home? Think, Daniel! He's manipulated you every step of the way, ingratiating himself into your life as he pries open your mind and learns all its secrets. He wants your knowledge, Daniel. He wants the knowledge of the man who survived Brennenburg, and he wants it for a reason.”

“He didn't even know about Brennenburg until I told him,” Daniel said. “You're only trying to confuse me, so that I can trust you instead of Henry. I won't have it. I may not fully trust Henry, but I trust him far more than I trust you!”

“You wound me, Daniel,” Alexander said. “But you wound yourself more by trusting Bedloe.”

“I won't listen to you anymore, Alexander,” Daniel said. He commenced bathing. “You hold no power over me. Whether you are a voice from the void or only the product of my own madness does not matter. I simply won't acknowledge you.”

“You're a fool!”

Daniel's lips pressed together tightly, and he was silent. Alexander flickered, scowled, and was gone. _Good,_ Daniel thought. _What a fool I was to miss him! Condescending, vile, lying man! It was the opium, it let him into my mind and tricked me into thinking we could be friends again. Henry was right to beat me for using it._

Daniel felt better after his bath. He dressed in the clothes that had been laid out for him, and went to find Henry. They went in to breakfast. Daniel was in a better mood until he tried to sit down.

“Hah, I'm sorry, I should have considered,” Henry said. He said to the serving maid, “Here, bring the man a pillow to sit on.”

Daniel looked at the servant in alarm and frowned.

“Did you think they didn't hear you screaming your head off in their apartments downstairs?” Henry asked. “Don't fret so, Daniel. The staff all know of my tendencies.”

Daniel sat down once the wooden chair was cushioned. His buttocks ached regardless of how he sat, and he ate as quickly as possible. More than once, he caught Henry stifling laughter. _Sadistic bastard. Perhaps Alexander was right._

After breakfast, Henry left for his office.

“I'm loathe to leave you alone, but I've put off too many patients while I've been caring for you,” he said at the door. “If you're considering returning to that den of vice, you should forget about it. I will find you, Daniel. I will _always_ find you. And after you're found, I will bring you home, and I will punish you.”

“I know, I know.”

Henry grabbed Daniel's face in his hand and held it until Daniel met his eyes.

“Promise me you won't return there.”

“All right, I promise.”

“Good man.”

Henry kissed him goodbye, and went out. Daniel sighed, wishing he had a place to go to. It would look desperate if he went to the museum before his job resumed in November, however. He wandered the apartment, finally settling in the library. He searched until he found a novel about an explorer's adventures, then settled on a sofa to read it (lying on his stomach, of course). He had grown up being whisked away to exotic locales and wildernesses by such stories. The reason he had become an archaeologist was because of his admiration for the brave men that starred in the fictions and biographical accounts. He had wished to accompany them and to grow up to be just like them.

Daniel remembered Professor Herbert suddenly. He had studied under him, and had been honored to be asked to join his expedition to Algeria. Herbert had been a cheerful little fellow, but he had treated Daniel no better than Henry or Alexander did. He had forced Daniel into carrying a parasol in the desert ( _Most likely his own private joke, come to think of it_ ), and he had tried to sweep him out of the way when Daniel was unwell.

_Why do men treat me that way? Is it something about me, or the way I act? Or is it the other way round? Do_ I _seek out men that treat me so? I did admire Herbert, and Alexander, and now I'm quite impressed by Henry. It is me. What is wrong with me? The only time I knew how to be a man was when I was doing those awful things at Brennenburg._

“No, not even then.”

Daniel sat bolt upright. Alexander had joined him. Daniel opened his mouth, then shut it. He was determined to ignore the apparition. He picked up his novel and resumed reading it. Alexander was nonplussed.

“You were a child at Brennenburg, and you are a child now,” Alexander went on. “I thought that would simply make you easy to control and influence. That was another one of my mistakes: forgetting just how cruel human children can be.”

“You're one to talk!” Daniel blurted out.

“The torture and murder I inflicted was all done for a reason,” Alexander said. “I am not human, Daniel. I was no more affected than a human scientist is by experimenting on an animal. Even so, I would not have harmed anyone, if I could have accomplished my goal bloodlessly. Alas, it was impossible, so I did what I had to do.”

“So did I,” Daniel said. “I only did what you told me I had to to survive the Shadow.”

“No, you went mad,” Alexander told him. “You were overcome by lust for violence, gluttony for power. You _enjoyed_ it, Daniel, you enjoyed _all_ of it. I liked you, my friend. I thought you were merely a victim of your lot, as I was. Because of this fondness, I failed to see that the Shadow and the Orb had not only caused you a temporary madness, but had exacerbated a darkness that was already festering in your heart.”

Daniel remembered the day he had bashed Henry Bedloe's head in with a rock.

“Exactly,” Alexander said. “All the way back then, you were smitten by that first taste of power. The darkness was only kept at bay by your fear of your father, and the fear that Bedloe would retaliate. As a man, you channeled all your energy into ambition, and so your personal shadow was forgotten.”

“Then _you_ taught me how to torture people, and said I had to kill to survive,” Daniel said. “You taught me how to be a monster. You can't blame it on me if I learned!”

“I did not teach you to take joy in the pain of others, or to mirthfully abduct women and children for slaughter,” Alexander said. “Did I ever show you how to do something as hideous as what you did to Herr Zimmerman's daughter?”

Daniel's face went white and he dropped the book. Of all the horrors of Brennenburg, that was the single event that he had pushed from his mind. His hands began to shake as he remembered how furious he was at the girl for trying to escape the dungeon, how eager he had been to track her down, and how thoughtlessly he had stabbed her to death. He remembered all of it in perfect detail—or was Alexander making him remember?

_Just a young thin girl, no more than fifteen and probably less. She was stripped of all her dignity, wearing only a filthy and transparent white nightgown, a woman's homunculus. Her stomach was soft when the knife pierced it … one, two—how many times? All that long blond hair turned red with blood. Everything went red with it. It was all over my hands, I … Oh God, I dropped her, and I dropped the knife. That knife stayed in her, didn't it? Did anyone ever take it out?_

“Calm yourself, Daniel, remember to breathe,” Alexander said, shamelessly reading and responding to the man's thoughts. “Our time was running short. Our fates would have been decided before the girl could have rallied anyone against us, if she had even survived the forest. You could have simply let her go, I never told you I would punish you for having mercy on the prisoners.”

“You … You dehumanized them,” Daniel whispered. “You made me … see them that way. You made chattel out of them. It was … your fault, I … I'm not … ”

“You are.”

Daniel bowed his head, not knowing what to say. He could not speak for his hyperventilating, anyway. He clutched his head in his hands, trying to will the memories away. All he could see was the last shock of the girl's impossibly large blue eyes. He cried out and slid to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest.

“If I had not been in such a rush, I would have taken the time to get to know you better before that unpleasantness,” Alexander mused. “If I had done that, I would have seen your evil, and I would have been able to temper it.”

“How?”

“The way Henry is now,” Alexander said dryly. “Well, not including the sex, of course. Sex with a human would be beneath me, and I belong to another besides. I did, anyway, once … ”

Daniel was surprised by the misery in Alexander's voice. Was such a demon capable of love?

“I am quite capable,” Alexander assured him. “In fact, all of this, all that I have suffered, and all I have made to suffer—I have done it all for that love.”

Alexander walked over and knelt beside Daniel. His face was deceptively kind. He even smiled affectionately at the young man.

“Do you see, Daniel? Do you understand what I'm telling you?” he asked. “Whatever else I am, I am a man. I have done evil out of necessity, but I have neither enjoyed nor mourned it. I am a scientist, a prisoner of a strange world, a survivor. I am a man. Can you truly say the same thing?”

“No,” Daniel admitted dully. He stared at his hands, scrubbing them, twisting them. He fancied he could feel the slick of blood. “No, I cannot.”

Alexander reached out a hand, but withdrew it. Daniel inferred from the gesture that he was immaterial. Instead, Alexander stood watching him sympathetically.

“Poor boy,” he said. “Honestly, I do wish someone other than you had found the Orb.”

“If you feel sorry for me, then please leave me alone,” Daniel begged. “All you do is remind me of Brennenburg, and I want nothing more than to forget that place. I know it's selfish and horrible, but I can't live with the memories so stark in my mind. Please, _please_ leave me. Leave me alone.”

The girl had said those very words. They echoed in Daniel's mind, shrill and desperate. He cried out and covered his face with his hands.

“I will leave you alone, on one condition.”

Daniel looked up at Alexander, his face damp with tears.

“Leave Henry Bedloe.”

“I can't,” Daniel said. “I just can't. You said it yourself, that I need discipline.”

“Then find another man to give it to you!” Alexander snapped. “You cannot trust him, Daniel. He is using you. He is dangerous.”

“I won't leave,” Daniel said. “I won't leave him. I … I think I might be falling in love with him. At the very least, I need him. I won't survive on my own.”

“Fine. Fine, so be it.” Alexander stood. He gave Daniel a look of pity and anger. “It's on your head, Daniel.”

Alexander turned, and was gone. One moment he was there, and the next he had vanished. Daniel remained on the floor, crying yet again.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured to the memories of his victims. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

He remained in that state for an hour. Exhausted by misery, he then lay down on the carpet, and lost consciousness.

When he returned home for the lunch hour, Henry found him there still sleeping. Wondering what on earth had happened to the unfortunate youth now, he went over and knelt down before him. He shook him into waking. Daniel sat up, and turned glazed eyes to Henry. Henry thought that the streak of white in Daniel's brown hair had widened, but surely that was only fancy?

Before Henry could inquire as to what had driven Daniel into such a state, the man threw his arms around Henry's neck. _Well, this is a nice change from his usual denial and pride,_ Henry thought. He embraced the man back as Daniel clung to him as if for dear life. _I wonder what brought this on. He changes from one moment to the next. Poor man, to have such a fractured mind._

Daniel turned his face into Henry's and closed the distance between them. He kissed Henry fervently, the front of Henry's jacket gripped in his hands. There was more need in the kiss than love or sex. His mouth was dry, but Henry's tongue soon moistened it.

“Don't ever leave me,” Daniel pleaded. “Promise me that you won't ever leave me alone, no matter what I do.”

“Why?” Henry asked suspiciously. “Have you done something?”

“Please, just promise me!”

“I told you that I would never let you go,” Henry said. “You're the one that keeps trying to run off. If you need to hear the words, so be it. I promise that I won't ever leave you.”

“Alone. Promise you won't ever leave me alone.”

“I promise that I won't ever leave you alone. Satisfied?”

Daniel nodded. His eyes were dry, but circled with red and heavily shadowed. Henry helped him to his feet and sat him down on a chair before remembering his bruised bottom. Daniel did not complain, did not even flinch. He sat staring at his hands, rubbing them slightly. He did not seem drunk or otherwise intoxicated. Henry fetched some laudanum for him and brought him to the dining room for lunch. Daniel was eerily quiet and obedient.

“Will you stay with me?” Daniel asked as the meal drew to a close. “This afternoon, I mean. I-I want to talk to you, and I … I don't trust myself to be alone just now.”

Henry was losing quite a bit of money by giving up appointments to care for the wretched young man. Nonetheless, he did not hesitate to agree. Daniel thanked him in a small voice, bowing his head. Henry's ego wanted to believe the whipping had caused this contriteness, but he knew better; if Daniel's mood changed, it was likely due to Daniel himself.

After lunch, they sat in the parlor. Henry waited for Daniel to explain himself, but Daniel was distant. Henry was just considering drawing him out when the butler announced that Daniel had a visitor. Daniel stared wide-eyed at the butler, and Henry ordered to have the visitor brought in.

Hazel was shown into the parlor. Daniel shot to his feet in surprise and went to greet her. Henry excused himself to give them privacy.

“Hazel, what are you doing here?”

“I went looking for you at your address, and was informed that you were staying here,” Hazel said. She was flushed from being out, and accepted a glass of brandy. “Thank you, Daniel. I must say that I did not expect you to be living with Henry Bedloe.”

“He is helping me recover.”

“I see.”

“Hazel, why have you come all this way?” Daniel asked, visibly distressed. “You should not be out on your own, and in such dreadful weather. What if you took ill? I can't—I couldn't bear to lose you as well.”

“As well? Have you lost someone else, Daniel?”

Daniel had been thinking of how like the Zimmerman girl Hazel looked, excepting the color of hair: pale, wan, large-eyed, fragile, so very fragile … a dove's breath from death always …

“N-no, no! Of course not. I've never had anyone to lose except you,” Daniel said in a jumble. “That's why I can't lose you, my dear sister. I couldn't bear to lose you.”

“I have been very well recently,” Hazel assured him. “I do take care, but I had to see you.”

“But why?”

“I came to apologize for father.”

Hazel was surprised by how slowly comprehension dawned on Daniel's face. Had he forgotten his own father's death already? No, he must simply be distracted.

“Well, I … I am sorry to say that I won't be able to mourn him well,” Daniel said. “You know the things he did to me.”

“I did not come to apologize for his death,” Hazel said. “I came to apologize for his words. He should not have been so cruel to you. He was always too harsh with you. He never appreciated how sensitive you are, how very sensitive and bright. I am sorry that he died still trying to hurt you, and I am sorry that I invited you to a house where you were so unfairly unwelcome.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Hazel,” Daniel said warmly. “You are my only family, as far as I've ever been concerned. You are the only person that shares my blood that I can love.”

Daniel sat beside her on the sofa and took both her hands into his own. His grip was painfully tight, and his hands were clammy. She noticed that one cheek was far more bruised than it should have been by their mother's slaps.

“Daniel, are you quite all right?” Hazel asked. “You look awful. What happened to your face?”

“Oh, it's nothing at all,” Daniel said. “Never mind me. Are you well?”

“Yes, as I said, I have been exceedingly well,” Hazel said. “Do not worry about me so. I am as healthy as I ever will be, and I am in love and engaged to be married. I am happy, Daniel. For the first time in my life, I am truly happy.”

Daniel's face crumpled.

“Oh, was that very insensitive?” Hazel said. “Father did just die.”

“No, it isn't that,” Daniel said. “Hazel, do you really love Xavier Mandus?”

“Why, yes! Why would you need to ask?”

“I only want to be sure that you truly desire this,” Daniel said. “You do know … what marriage will mean? You are—I mean, that is to say—”

“I think that I understand,” Hazel said. She smiled in the knowing way only women ever manage. “You fear for my health, don't you? It is true that I have always been fragile, and it is also true that the duties of marriage may be a physical strain on me. But I am prepared to risk my health, even my life, for this.”

Daniel looked badly shaken. His grip on Hazel's hands tightened all the more. She winced and delicately pushed his hands away. He wrung his own hands violently.

“Please don't trouble yourself so, brother,” Hazel said. “I have no intention of dying, not now that I've finally found happiness. I will take care with my health, and Xavier is exceptionally attentive to me. I will be excellently cared for. However, I am prepared for the worst to happen, and I have accepted it as a price that I am willing to pay.”

“But—but why? Why would you throw your life away? How could you?”

“I would not be throwing it away. It would not be a waste of life, but the opposite: an opportunity to finally _use_ my life, to live it!” Hazel explained. “I never dreamed that I would be able to have the things that healthy women are entitled to. I expected that I would languish and waste away until I perished, like a lone flower in a vase. Then I met Xavier, and we fell in love, he and I. I did everything in my power to warn him that I would make for a poor wife, but he only wishes for my companionship and love. He is patient and gentle and kind, and he promises me all the things I never dared dream of having. I would die to be his wife. I would happily go to my death bearing him children.”

Daniel's bottom lip quivered and he bowed his head over his hands. Hazel put a hand on his shoulder, feeling deeply sorry for him. He seemed a boy again, lost in a world that only ever hurt him.

“Please do not suffer for my sake,” Hazel begged. “I hate to think that I am hurting you.”

“I will always fear for you, Hazel,” Daniel said. “I would do anything to protect you. But you don't want my protection, do you? You've made your choice.”

“I don't _need_ to be protected from my love,” she replied. She coughed. “Yes, I have made my choice.”

She coughed again, and sipped brandy.

“I wish you all the happiness in the world, dear Hazel,” Daniel said graciously. “I should like to have you here a bit longer, but you look peaked. Please, go home and warm yourself.”

“Yes, I think I should.” She stood. “Are you certain that you're going to be fine, Daniel? You deserve happiness, too.”

“No. No, I don't. I don't deserve anything.”

“Nonsense, you deserve it as much as I do, as much as anyone can,” Hazel said. “All I want is for you to be happy, Daniel. I've never wished for anything more than I've wished for that.”

Daniel's eyes were moist, but he held his tears. He walked her to the door holding her hand in his own. Before she left, he embraced her fully. Though surprised, she hugged him back. He kissed her cheek, and they said goodbye.

* * *

Daniel found Henry in the drawing room, smoking a cigar in his grand leather armchair. For the first time, Daniel sat down on his lap of his own free will. He leaned his head on the larger man's shoulder, clutching his free hand in his own.

“I have lost my sister,” he said mournfully. “She is determined to marry Xavier Mandus. All I could do in the end was wish her well.”

“I'm sorry.”

“So am I.”

Henry finished his cigar in silence. Daniel felt good in his arms, and he was beautifully timid. Had he finally learned his place once and for all? Henry wished that they could remain this way forever. He almost hated to root out the cause of the young man's personality change, but he had no choice. He snuffed out the cigar and stroked Daniel's hair. Then he turned the man's bowed head up by the chin.

“You were upset before your sister came to visit,” he reminded him. “What were you going to talk to me about?”

“I heard Alexander's voice again,” Daniel said. “Not only that, but I saw him. He appeared to me, just as clearly as in life.”

“What did he say to you?”

“Various things,” Daniel said vaguely. “He reminded me of the person I became at Brennenburg. There were some instances that I never told you about, Henry. I hope to God that you don't hate me for them. You must remember that you promised never to leave me alone.”

“Of course.”

“Then … ”

Daniel related the worst of his sins to Henry then. The very last story he told was the one that had broken his streak of remorseless cruelty: the murder of the Zimmerman girl. Daniel was unable to meet Henry's eyes while he told it, and buried his face in his hands in shame when he had finished.

Even Henry was stunned by the tale. Despite his hatred of his mother, he had never done violence to women. The most violent impulse towards children he ever had as a man was the occasional observation that this or that boy making trouble on the street should have his hide tanned. He could not imagine hunting down a young girl and butchering her like an animal. For once, he was speechless.

_To think that I am cradling a ruthless murderer in my arms as if_ he _were the innocent child._ Henry thought. _I know the Orbs bleed madness into those that come into contact with them, but is that really all it was? The look in his eyes when he bashed my skull with the rock back then, it was a glimpse of the monster he would become at Brennenburg. So, he really would have killed me with the fire poker last night if he had had the chance. I'll have to keep a stricter eye on him._

“When you made me promise not to leave you alone, you meant that you fear to be left to your own devices, didn't you?”

“Yes.” Daniel wiped his eyes and face with a fist. “I no longer trust myself. I've been denying it since returning home, but I can't anymore. I am a monster. I've been alternating between remorse and … and a hideous desire to recapture the power I felt. Sometimes I still yearn to be the one doing violence, despite my disgust with myself. I'm afraid of that darkness, Henry. I'm afraid of my personal shadow.”

“I see.”

Henry said nothing more. He sat lost in thought, arms around Daniel. Daniel's nerves began to fray during the silence.

“Do you hate me?” he finally burst out. “Are you repulsed? I can't blame you, only please tell me you'll keep me! I can't be left alone, I'm terrified to be left alone. Do whatever you want with me, I don't care! Hate me, beat me, even lock me in the darkness, I deserve it all! Only don't leave me!”

“Hush, you'll give me a headache,” Henry said. He kissed Daniel's lips tenderly. “Hush, Daniel. If I were so repulsed as to want to leave you, would I still be holding you so close?”

“Then?”

“I will _not_ let you go, no matter what you are, no matter what you do,” Henry said. “You are a wretched, selfish, fiendish boy, but I love you. I love you as I have never loved any other. Now that you belong to me, I refuse to let you go.”

“Thank you, Henry. I love you.”

“Do you? I wonder.”

Henry shifted Daniel off of his lap and stood. He rubbed feeling back into his legs, laid a hand atop Daniel's head. He rustled his hand through the man's brown hair, then held his face in one hand. He scrutinized the youth's features, his thunder-stricken eyes. He tried to imagine this man before him doing the terrible things he had done, but he could not. The thought did not repulse him, quite, it simply depressed him.

“I will close my practice for the time being,” Henry announced. “I promise you, we will tame that wild mind of yours, Daniel. In the meantime, I will not leave your side, and I will not allow you to leave mine.”

“I'm sorry to put you through all this.”

“It's hardly your fault,” Henry said. “Besides, I am doing it for love.”

Daniel thought of Alexander's claim that he had done everything for love. Daniel did not understand the selflessness of it, but he was grateful Henry was willing to help him. He kissed him, trying to convey his appreciation.

“You won't always be so grateful to have me, believe me,” Henry said. He gave Daniel's bottom a hard swat. “I am a harsh master to serve.”

“Master?”

“That's exactly what I will be, dear Daniel,” Henry smirked. “It's what you need, isn't it? A master to serve, a master to tame you. You're very fortunate that you have me to keep you in hand. Me, _of all people_.”

Daniel's smile faltered. _What have I agreed to? No, no, I mustn't think that way. This is for the best. I need someone like Henry. Even Alexander said that I need discipline. It's better this way. Isn't it?_

Henry seized his wrist. His thick teeth flashed in a handsomely sadistic smile. _Oh dear God, he's enjoying this,_ Daniel observed. _What have I done now?_

“Now let's have your things moved to my bedroom,” Henry said. “As that's done, we can discuss the rules of the household.”

“Rules?”

“Then I'll decide upon your punishments for breaking said rules.”

“Punishments?”

“Don't you worry, Daniel. I'll keep you properly tamed. I shall beat every last evil thought right out of your head.”

“O-oh.”

“Say 'thank you', Daniel.”

Daniel bit his lip, staring at his hands. He forced himself to remember the blood on them. He told himself this was for the best. He apparently took too long thinking, because Henry dealt his bottom another hearty smack.

“Thank you,” he managed.

“You are quite welcome.”

** End of Chapter Seven **


	8. Chapter 8

October 28, 1839

True to his word, Henry did not leave Daniel's side over the course of the next week. He made Daniel sit opposite the desk in his study while he lectured him, and Daniel sat squirming and blushing like a naughty boy. Henry told him the usual house rules that he made his lovers follow. It was a pleasure to watch Daniel's face go red as he detailed the punishments awaiting him should be break the rules. Daniel occasionally sulked, but he generally accepted the arrangement.

Tonight, Henry had no choice but to leave his lover's side. He slipped a powerful sedative into Daniel's nightly brandy as they sat in the parlor by the fire. Daniel passed out in his chair, and Henry carried him to his bedroom. He undressed him and tucked him beneath the covers, knowing he would not wake til the morning. He kissed the youth's cheek and watched him sleep for a minute. Then he left, more determined than ever to find a way to save him.

It was raining outside and a strong wind blew Henry's cloak around him. He had to hold his hat down atop his head on the way to the carriage. The rain splattered the windows and beat down upon the sides of the carriage as it bore him through the sooty city.

Beyond the streets of London, the carriage stopped before a great old mansion. Henry drew a deep breath and emerged into the bleak night. He was shown in and his hat and cloak were taken by aged servants, austere as they were silent. A stiff-spined butler led him through the candlelit halls of the mansion, until he was shown into a spacious drawing room. Men stood in small groups murmuring to one another, at a table distinguished women were conversing. Henry made his way to the elderly man seated regally in a high-backed chair before the fire, Winslow Octavio Paternoster.

Henry drew a chair up before Paternoster's. The ancient man turned his face in his direction, but his gray eyes seemed to look through him. There was a long silence before he spoke. When he did, it seemed that the fire cooled beneath an arctic wind.

“You have fallen in love with the survivor of Brennenburg.”

“Yes.”

“Thus, you have given up many chances to glean his knowledge, for the sake of his well-being,” Paternoster continued. “You are only harsh with him for his own sake. You pushed him the once, only to draw him back just when he was on the brink of discovering the truth.”

“I will not sacrifice him,” Henry said. “If I did not know that you would hunt us down wherever we may go, I would take him as far from your reach as possible. I am only here to barter with you because I know that there is nowhere we would be safe.”

“Barter? How can you barter with what is not yours?”

“Daniel is mine, and therefore all his knowledge is mine.”

“Knowledge belongs to all,” Paternoster said. “That is the key tenet of our group.”

“This knowledge is held within the mind of a living man, a man that I love, a man that belongs to me,” Henry said. “I know that another tenet of the group's ideology is that all sacrifice is righteous in the pursuit of knowledge, but I don't care. No, Mr. Paternoster, I no longer care about the group or its ideology. I wish to make peace with you, but I will not go so far as to hurt Daniel for the group's sake. I cannot.”

“I see. It is a pity. You have gained much from our organization.”

“That is why I wish to make peace, if you cannot forgive my transgressions and allow me to stay,” Henry said. “I would offer you all the knowledge I can safely glean from Daniel. I have nothing more.”

“I see.”

There was a very long pause.

“No.”

The sighing windy voice chilled Henry's blood.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked tensely. “Do you refuse me?”

“I refuse.”

“Then—”

“The matter is already settled,” Paternoster said. “The boy is no longer under your protection.”

“What do you mean?”

Silence.

“Damn you, what do you mean?”

The rest of the room went quiet and turned all its eyes on them. Henry was on his feet before he could think better of it. He grabbed the old man by the front of his jacket and lifted him to his feet. Paternoster's sad gray eyes met his calmly.

“What have you done!”

Henry heard a click next to his head. Two of the aged manservants had aimed pistols at the back of his head and his right temple. Henry released him. Paternoster waved a hand at the servants as if shooing flies. They lowered their weapons.

“I knew that you would come here tonight, and I made suitable arrangements,” Paternoster explained. “Daniel has been removed from your home, and will be delivered here shortly. I will do what is necessary to make use of the knowledge of the survivor of Brennenburg and his link to Alexander von Brennenburg.”

Henry's face turned an apoplectic shade. His hands shook and then curled into fists. All he could think of was Daniel, sedated and helpless in their bed. Mad, shattered, selfish, sad, beautiful Daniel …

“You had no right,” Henry said through clenched teeth. “You had no right to take him from me! If I lose him, I swear, I will kill you, Paternoster!”

“Be calm, Henry, be calm,” Paternoster's wispy voice ordered. “You may not lose him yet. You have been a loyal servant to our group, and your talent for dealing with threats to us when matters must be settled less civilly are invaluable. I should not want to lose you, and so I shall make every effort not to lose your lover.”

“That isn't good enough!” Henry snapped. “Daniel must survive. He must!”

Silence.

“What do you intend to do to him?” Henry asked. “No, I won't stand idly by while he's tortured by you. If you want me to remain loyal to this group, you must let me oversee this thing. It is the least you can do, after stealing him from me.”

“It might be arranged, if you can be civil.”

Henry shut his eyes briefly, gathering his fury and locking it away in the back of his mind. It was more difficult than it had been since he was a brutish child. Fortunately, his years of training his mind and his psychiatric training in logic made it possible.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I will be civil.”

 _So long as you don't kill him,_ he added mentally. _If I lose him, I will kill you, old man. Make no mistake about that._

* * *

Daniel woke from pleasant dreams to darkness. He reached over for Henry, but his arm dangled in mid-air. Confused, he felt the bed around him. This was not Henry's massive bed, but a plain cot. There was one pillow, a blanket, and an iron frame. There was no such bed in Henry's apartment, Daniel knew that for a fact. A cold chill ran down his spine.

Trying not to panic, Daniel felt around with his hands. The wall was made of stone, and when his feet hit the floor, he found it the same. He blinked several times, but the place was pitch black. Carefully, he felt his way along the wall, as he had done so many times in—

 _Brennenburg. That must be it. I must never have left. It feels like the castle dungeon. It_ smells _like that place: mold and wet stone and human suffering. Oh God. Did I only dream that I returned to London? Was it all just a wishful dream? Was Henry a dream, too?_

Daniel ran his hands over his own body. He was dressed in a shirt and breeches, but he had neither stockings nor shoes. He smelled his shirt, but there was no scent that told of his being close to Henry. He tried to find a bruise that would prove their reunion was real, but everyone in Brennenburg was battered at any given time; one wound or another could prove nothing.

“It was all a dream,” Daniel muttered to himself as he made his way around the cell. He laughed wildly. “Of course it was. No one escapes Brennenburg. Was I ever even really Daniel? Or did I only imagine that I was one of the torturers? That must be it. Ha ha ha ha! I don't even know _who_ I am! They must have given me that amnesia mixture, that … that … Damascus rose … I can smell it—Oh God, I can smell it!”

The texture of the wall changed. His hands scraped against wood and metal: a door. He banged on it and kicked it.

“Alexander! Let me out of here!” he shouted. “Torture me! Kill me! I don't care! Just let me out of this darkness! Please! Alexander!”

“I'm here _with_ you, Daniel.”

Daniel whipped around with a startled yell. The darkness seemed darker in one place, in the shape of a man, as if a creature made of void were there.

“This is not Brennenburg Castle,” Alexander's voice said. “You were not dreaming. You murdered me and returned to London. Then you made the mistake of trusting that man, and now you are here. Did I not warn you, Daniel?”

“No, no, you're wrong!” Daniel shouted. “Henry wouldn't do this! If he is real, if all we went through did happen, then you're wrong! He wouldn't do this to me! He loves me.”

“It is irrelevant,” Alexander said. “The man wanted something from you. He drugged you last night. You woke up in captivity. Can it be any clearer?”

“No, no, no! No!” Daniel protested, hitting his temples with his hands. “I won't accept that. I won't. I can't.”

“You fool,” Alexander scoffed. “Now we're both—”

Alexander cut himself off abruptly. Daniel was grateful for the silence. He returned to the cot and sat down on it to think. He tried to remember what had happened, but his mind was a blank. All he recalled was enjoying his nightly brandy in the parlor with Henry. The room had been warm, firelight making the polished wood of the furniture gleam. There had been wind howling and rain pouring outside the windows, but inside all was light and heat. He had been happy. He had actually been happy.

“How did this happen?” Daniel murmured. He hugged himself. “How can this be? Did something happen to Henry? I know he wouldn't let anyone take me. I _know_ he wouldn't. He said that he would never let me go.”

“Perhaps he hasn't,” Alexander said. “He may be guarding you right this very moment.”

“No, that's wrong,” Daniel said stubbornly. “You're wrong. He promised that he wouldn't leave my side. He promised that he wouldn't leave me alone. He wouldn't do this to me.”

“Oh, Daniel, how can you be so naive after all that you've been through?” Alexander said wearily. “Once again, you trusted a man you admired, put yourself in his care, relied upon him like a helpless child, and were betrayed by him. The same happened with the teacher you admired in childhood, Professor Herbert, myself, and now Henry. Do you enjoy this pattern of yours? Is it a game to you?”

Daniel lay down on the bed, hugging his knees to his chest.

“No, you're wrong, Alexander,” he said. “It's different this time. None of the others loved me. Henry loves me. We're lovers. He'll come for me. He will. Then you'll see that he had nothing to do with this. Absolutely nothing at all.”

“You truly are a hopeless fool, Daniel.”

Daniel shut his eyes tightly, trying not to think. The shock had hit him hard enough to make his mind go to mush, and he was grateful. As he drifted back to sleep, his last thought was a prayer that he would wake in Henry's bed again.

The prayer was not answered.

Untold hours later, Daniel woke again in the pitch black cell. By this time, his stomach was beginning to be gnawed by hunger. Panic seized him then. He curled up as small as possible on the cot, as he had when he was a small boy.

“Alexander? Are you there?” he asked meekly. “Please, talk to me. Anything is better than being alone in the darkness.”

Silence.

“Please, _please_ talk to me, Alexander,” Daniel whispered. “Please don't leave me here alone. Please, someone … please … ”

A light suddenly flashed on the other side of the room. A slot had opened in the bottom of the door. By the time Daniel sat up, it had slammed shut. A faint shimmer remained by the door. Daniel tumbled out of bed and crawled towards it. He reached out, then discerned the source of the glow. With a cry, he recoiled, falling back and pushing himself across the floor. The blue light was emanating from the Orb.

 _No, it can't be,_ Daniel thought. _I saw it burn up in the ritual. It can't be back!_

“It isn't.”

Daniel looked around, and saw the outline of Alexander very dimly in the blue light. He stood staring down at the Orb at his feet.

“This is not the same Orb that you discovered in Algeria,” Alexander said. “You remember all the research that you did concerning the Orb, didn't you?”

“Ah yes,” Daniel said slowly. “That's right. I saw pictures of royalty and religious leaders holding an Orb in various forms, so there must be more. How many are there?”

“Many, Daniel.”

“Why is one of them _here_?” Daniel asked. His curiosity gave way to terror. “Who put it in here? What do they want?”

“I would assume they want you to wield it.”

“NO!” Daniel screamed. “No, I won't touch it! The Shadow will come again if I do!”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Alexander mused. “You are not exactly a novice anymore.”

“The Orbs are evil!”

“Any pure force of power can become evil in the hands of the stupid and the corrupt,” Alexander said. “You just so happened to be both.”

“That's not fair.”

“Isn't it?”

Daniel stood up and walked a little closer to the blue light. Despite his terror, his soul was stirred by the Orb's light. Curiosity and yearning made his hands twitch with the urge to touch it. He crossed his arms across his chest and stopped several feet from the light.

“What are they?” he asked Alexander. “I never did find an answer to that question, and you never told me.”

“You never asked.”

“I was too busy trying to survive the Shadow and learning to torture people,” Daniel said dryly. “So tell me now, Alexander. What _are_ the Orbs?”

“Pure creation.”

“What.”

“Even our kind do not fully understand them,” Alexander admitted. “For we have conquered all the aspects of life and death, but there is much about creation itself that eludes us. As far as we can tell, the Orbs are fragments of the power of creation itself; seeds containing fragments of the power to create universes. The entirety of the universe's knowledge is contained within the Orbs, as well as its history, as well as all the potentials for its future.”

“I don't understand.”

“I did not expect you to,” Alexander said flatly. “I have seen in your mind that you once believed in God. A part of you still does. Your idea of God's power will suffice as an adequate metaphor, if trite.”

“That's the power of the Orbs?” Daniel asked. “But God is good. Creation is good. Why do the Orbs cause so much evil?”

“They cause nothing, Daniel, pay attention to what I'm saying,” Alexander said sternly. “They contain the pinnacle of knowledge and power in all of creation, because they contain the power of creation itself. That is all. When they are touched, the wielder becomes a conduit to that power. Naturally, the power takes the form of what the wielder believes power is.”

“But the Shadow—”

“I was getting to that,” Alexander interrupted. “The Shadow is a sort of guardian. It keeps the balance of creation intact. A wielder's mind must be very strong to avoid the Shadows of the Orbs: they must have a strong will to keep from fearing it, because it grows stronger the more it is feared. Unfortunately, your mind is weak, and your will is weaker. You never felt good enough to hold the power of the Orb, and when the Shadow came, you lost yourself to your self-doubts and fear of the Shadow.”

“Is that why the Shadow yielded after the first ritual?”

“Exactly,” Alexander said. “You drew strength from my strength, and strengthened your will with your desire to survive. Had you been able to maintain that strength, we may have had more time, and I may have been able to use the Orb to return home without leaving you at the mercy of the Shadow.”

“But you betrayed me.”

“I had no other choice,” Alexander said. “Your strength fractured into madness, and the Shadow grew stronger than ever. Your personal shadow fed it, and the combined darkness toppled Brennenburg. I thought you already lost, so I decided to do what I could to escape it all. You know how that feels, don't you?”

 _I can't deny that,_ Daniel thought.

“No, you can't,” Alexander agreed. “In any case, now you know the truth of the Orbs. I am aware of the risk, given the fact that you're still a weak-willed child, but I do not see any other way. Muster all the strength that you can, think only of survival, and take that Orb.”

“No, I can't, I'm still too weak,” Daniel said. “Besides, I don't want to _be_ powerful. I hate who I become when I have power. I'd rather die than be that man again!”

“If your will is strong enough, you will be able to wield the Orb's power without hurting others,” Alexander said. “The torture was for the sake of collecting Vitae. That isn't needed now. All you have to do is reach out to the Orb's power and resist your fears. I don't know what those who set this up want from you, but you should be able to manage the Orb enough to get out of here. We will take it from there.”

“I'd rather die than put myself at the mercy of another Orb,” Daniel said stubbornly. He returned to the cot and lay down, back to the blue light. “I won't do it. I won't.”

“Daniel, you must! We cannot remain trapped down here! Daniel, did you hear what I said? Daniel!”

Daniel screwed his eyes shut and buried his head in the pillow. The darkness erased his sense of time, minutes or hours or days could be passing for all he knew. His stomach twisted with hunger. His mind whirled through all his deepest fears and the most vile possibilities. He passed in and out of consciousness many times. Alexander prevailed upon him to take the Orb, but even his voice grew faint eventually. Daniel's body weakened, and his mind failed. Before long, he could not have moved from the cot if he wanted to.

“Daniel, I've tried to be reasonable with you, but this has gone too far,” Alexander announced at some point in time. “You are starving, dehydrated, and will be delirious soon. If you don't do something, you'll be too weak to make it across the room. Come here and take the Orb this instant.”

Daniel rolled over and stared blankly at Alexander's dim outline. His mouth was slack, his eyes uncomprehending. Alexander came closer and knelt to bring their faces level. He reached towards Daniel, but his hand passed through the young man.

“Daniel, please, listen to me,” Alexander appealed to him. “You can't die here. You're twenty-four years old. Do you know what that is to me? It's less than the blink of an eye by my standards. Think of all you did to survive Brennenburg. How can you lay down and die so easily after you went through so much to live?”

Daniel shook his head vaguely. He licked his lips, but there was no spit on his tongue to moisten them. He was numb to Alexander's words, numb to everything but the constant throb of hunger.

“I'm sorry, Daniel,” Alexander sighed. He stood up and stepped back a few paces. “I hate to do this to you, but you must wake from this daze. You _must_ survive this. If you do not take the Orb, I will hurt you, Daniel.”

“Not—here,” Daniel rasped. “Can't—hurt me. Not really here.”

“My mind is. That is all I need. But speaking is useless at this point. Here is a demonstration.”

Daniel blinked, and then he was ripped out of his body. The disorientation was a relief for just a moment, then the pain set in. Suddenly he was in the bodies of the people he had tortured at Brennenburg, feeling every lash, breakage, and burn they had suffered. Flesh was seared by hot metal, his back was split by leather, his bones snapped like twigs. Daniel's body arched dangerously on the bed and a broken scream escaped his raw throat.

* * *

Daniel's scream echoed throughout the dungeon far below the manor. Paternoster, Beechworth, and Henry Bedloe were gathered around a tall basin of water. In the pool, a reflection showed Daniel in his cell, clear as day despite the cell's darkness. They had been watching Daniel for days now, Henry growing more desperate by the hour.

“That is enough!” Henry growled at Paternoster. “You'll gain nothing from him if that goddamned Alexander-thing kills him!”

“He will not kill him,” Paternoster's reedy voice assured him. “If the Brennenburg survivor dies, so does the being that called itself 'Alexander von Brennenburg'. He is probably fighting to save Daniel right now.”

“He's fighting to save himself,” Henry said. “This is madness! You'll kill him!”

“Be patient.”

Henry gritted his teeth and stalked away from the basin. The men were alone: the servants were not allowed down here, only members of the group. He turned to stare at Paternoster's back. To all appearances, he was only a willowy old man, but Henry knew how powerful he was. If he laid hands on him, he would probably be killed.

 _It would be absurd to risk my life for Daniel,_ Henry told himself. _I've known him less than two months as a man, and he was the bane of my existence as a boy. What is he, anyway? The boy who got away? Well, I've had him now. My fixation has been satisfied. He can go back to being a part of my past. I have a fine future ahead of myself, with or without that brat._

Henry thought all of this within the space of a heartbeat. Then he rushed up to Paternoster, put a massive arm around his neck, and held a revolver to his side. The old man raised his eyebrows, then his face settled back into its usual unaffected calm.

“Henry, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Beechworth exclaimed.

“Stay out of this, it doesn't concern you,” Henry told him. To Paternoster, he said, “I am going down there and I am going to retrieve Daniel. You can try to kill us, but if you do, I'll take as many as I can shoot with me, including you.”

“Such passion,” Paternoster remarked. “You will regret it if you ruin this, Henry. Remember, all the gifts that you have received from the group can be taken away.”

“I know that.”

Henry snatched the keys to the manor from Paternoster's jacket pocket. He released him, backing away with the revolver trained on the elder man. He locked Beechworth and Paternoster in the room, and then ran for the basement cells.

* * *

Daniel fell off the cot while he was twisting in agony. He was on hand and knee on the stone floor, panting hard, sweat leaking the last of his body's moisture. Alexander was pacing around in front of him furiously.

“Why must you be so stubborn?” he asked. “Are you that much of a coward? Have you finally decided to die? Well, I haven't! Get up, Daniel! Get up, or I'll do it again!”

“N … o … No … nnnuh … ”

The memories tore through him once more. His scream was weak, jagged. His body was unscathed, but in his mind he had been broken countless times. His body jerked in remembered pain, telepathically inflicted upon him by Alexander.

“Please, no,” he rasped. “Alexander, please … no … more … ”

“Then take the orb, Daniel,” Alexander demanded. “Go to it now! Go!”

Daniel crawled towards the blue light mechanically. His mind was dumb with pain. He thought of the worlds he had seen through the Orb, and longed for them. Let Alexander take charge of him, then. Henry had failed him, so he may as well let Alexander in. He thought of his nights in the guest room of Brennenburg Castle, Alexander once waking him from a nightmare and promising to protect him. Alexander had forgiven him. He would keep him safe. All he had to do was let him in—

* * *

By the time Henry reached the door to Daniel's cell, Paternoster and Beechworth had caught up to him. He aimed the revolver at them, but neither moved to overtake him. Henry fumbled with the keys, trying to unlock the cell door.

“Have a care,” Paternoster warned. “It is not only your beloved Daniel in there.”

“Damn Alexander, and damn you.”

Paternoster nodded cordially. One of the keys clicked in the cell door lock and Henry turned it frantically. The heavy door creaked on its iron hinges, light flooding the cell. Henry stopped short in the doorway, frozen by the sight of Daniel.

All traces of suffering were gone from Daniel's face. He stood erect and smirking, the Orb in one hand. His hair had gone stark white.

“So it _was_ you,” he said when he saw Henry. “Well, I told that fool as much.”

Upon hearing the deep, snide voice, Henry realized the truth. Daniel's body had been overtaken by Alexander von Brennenburg. Henry reached for the revolver, then his hand dropped. If he shot at Alexander, his lover's body would take the bullet. For the first time in his life, Henry backed away from his enemy.

“So, you lured Daniel in to take him off-guard,” Alexander said, moving Daniel's body out of the cell. “You must have known that we were linked, but what did you intend to do, exactly? Lure me out with the Orb? Do you know who I am?”

Paternoster put a hand on Henry's shoulder and guided him to the side. He stood before Henry and Beechworth, hand resting on the stone head of his walking stick. A light was gathering in the milky round crystalline stone, and in Paternoster's gray eyes. Henry felt the hair on the back of his neck standing up and he smelled ozone, as if a storm was coming.

“Yes,” Paternoster said. “I know exactly who you are, 'Alexander von Brennenburg'.”

Alexander lifted his (Daniel's) head and met Paternoster's gaze coolly. There was a very long silence, but Henry had the suspicion that the two sorcerers were communicating. The light in the walking stick's stone and the Orb flickered and pulsated at pointed intervals.

“No,” Alexander breathed. He took a step back. “It can't be. You?”

Paternoster bowed formally. Rage lit Alexander's face, but it was mingled with fear. He lifted the Orb, and reality seemed to fray around the edges. Henry's vision of the room warped, and he heard strange sounds thickening the air.

“So this was your plan all along,” Alexander murmured. He lowered the Orb, and its light went out. He smiled an uncharacteristically chagrined smile. “I have to admit, I never expected that you were the one orchestrating all this. Of course, you do realize that I could take the boy with me—or leave him destroyed?”

“I knew the risk.”

Paternoster waved a hand at Beechworth. Beechworth put down the bag he had been carrying and opened it. He removed a metallic canister and handed it to Paternoster.

“He's had enough,” Henry intervened. “Please. Just let him alone. You've done enough to him.”

“So, Daniel was right, you do love him,” Alexander said.

“Yes, I do,” Henry said. “Please don't hurt him anymore. Just give him back to me.”

Alexander actually seemed to sympathize with him. He turned back to Paternoster and looked at the Memory Capsule in his hand. He snorted in amusement.

“You primitives hardly comprehend the meaning of what it is to love,” Alexander said. “Yet even you … Fine. I bear Daniel no ill will, and he is of no use to me now. I will leave him to you—what's left of him.”

“Thank you.” Henry exhaled in relief. “Thank you.”

“But you,” Alexander said to Paternoster. He twisted Daniel's features into a wolfish sneer. “Make no mistake, I will kill you. You will rue this day. You have been very cautious these past centuries, but now you've made an enemy of the wrong man. I will be the one that finally puts you to rest.”

“You are welcome to try. Now, shall we get this unpleasantness over with?”

Paternoster raised a hand and the Orb flew from Alexander's hand into his own. The Memory Capsule and the Orb exploded into a brilliant illumination. Henry had to shut his eyes to protect them from the whiteness. When he opened them again, Daniel was standing stock still, his face a mask of agony. His eyes rolled back, and Henry just managed to catch him before he fell.

“That went far more smoothly than I expected,” Paternoster said.

“Do not speak another word to me, or I will shoot you,” Henry grumbled. “He's of no use to you any longer. I'm taking him home.”

“Of course.”

Henry picked Daniel up in his arms and left. _It does not matter what's left of him. I'll fix him. No matter what it takes, I_ will _fix him. I'll put his mind back together and make him forgive me. Then, he'll truly, finally be mine._

** End of Chapter Eight **


	9. Chapter 9

November 14, 1839

During the following fortnight, Daniel did not speak a word. He was catatonic, and Henry had to guide him in every action. He did not respond to kisses or the long nights of being held in Henry's arms. Henry had to feed him by hand and hold his glass to his lips to make him drink. He bathed him, dressed and undressed him, brushed his hair. The young man looked ghostly with his hollow eyes and white hair. Henry began to worry that he was no more than a living ghost now, merely an empty shell. His mind seemed to have fled for good after the last episode of torment.

In an effort to draw Daniel out, Henry withheld all his sedatives and laudanum for the course of a week. He began to see the youth exhibit signs of discomfort, and he thought he saw a dim flash of desire in his eyes. When Daniel remained silent, Henry made him drink a copious amount of gin. Then he sat down with the young man on his lap, and explained everything to him.

“Along with my inheritance, my father left me the contact of a strange group,” he said. “This group included the names of many distinguished people, along with a curious amount of middle class and even criminal class members of society. I have never been a sociable man, but I knew that I would need to claim a social circle to go with my newfound status. Of all the clubs and organizations that my father associated with, this one seemed the least scrupulous about its members. I made contact with the group, and became intrigued by their vast accumulation of knowledge. I was also surprised that they did not judge me, although I was still a bit of a ruffian at the time. I enjoyed socializing with the group, and fit in well enough to be let into their deeper circles.”

Henry looked at Daniel, but could not tell if he was listening. He stared into the fire, hands limp in his lap. Henry kissed his cheek and rubbed warmth into his cold hands.

“This group is actually the nexus of many, many other groups, clubs, secret societies, organizations, businesses, and even religions,” Henry went on. “Every person with an interest in the occult or the esoteric, illegal medical practices and experimentation, and other such outre studies, has been affiliated with the group at one point or another. They are able to fund and facilitate the work of those they deem daring enough to further the cause of human evolution. And Winslow Octavio Paternoster is the head of that group.”

Daniel was looking up at Henry now, and his eyes had focused. _Is he paying attention to me?_ Henry wondered. _Curiosity always was his weakness. I'd better pretend not to notice, though. I don't want him to retreat back into himself._

“Winslow Octavio Paternoster is only the name he chose for himself when he brought his traditions to England and established the group here, for the man is far older than the oldest man now living in this country,” Henry said. “He is a sorcerer—there is no other word for it. Paternoster has lived for many hundreds of years, perhaps thousands. That Alexander-thing said he has lived for centuries. His practices out-date even the man himself, for they have been brought to modern times from the dim recesses of the Roman Empire. The group is a kind of philosophy and religion, through which all seekers of knowledge outside the mainstream gravitate out of ideology, necessity, or curiosity. Those that are not a part of the group are watched by the group. There is no fringe activity that the group is not aware of, in England and beyond.”

“Wh—”

The sound was hardly a wheeze, but Henry caught it. He looked down at Daniel. Daniel had gripped the front of his shirt in one hand, and was frowning pensively. Henry handed him his glass of gin and the youth drank. It was enough to allow him to speak. His voice was rusty from disuse, but his old inquisitive tone was unmistakable.

“What is it called?” he asked. “The group?”

Henry stifled his joy, not wanting to frighten his lover. He stroked Daniel's pale hair and held him slightly tighter.

“ _Sol Invictus Mithras_ ,” he replied. “On the surface, Mithraism involved the worship of a deity, Mithras, who was born from a stone, slayed a sacred bull with his bare hands, and shared a banquet with the sun god _Sol_. In truth, Mithras was a being brought into this world through one of the Orbs, hence the birth from a stone. His slaying of the bull represents the subjugation of the beasts and the natural world. The worship of the sun, _Sol_ , symbolizes the worship of the power of creation, the banquet symbolizing the sharing of knowledge from creation to Mithras and then to his followers. Mithras founded a secret society and dressed it up in religion to hide its true purpose from the government and the ignorant masses. Today, the religion itself has been excised from history by shrewd guardians of the bland mainstream historical trope, and so the society has shed its disguise. The _Sol Invictus Mithras_ exists through extreme practices of secrecy and a rigorous initiation system.”

“You must be high in the order, if you know so much.”

“Paternoster prized me for my bold theories and experimentation in the field of psychiatry, and my streak of brutality has made me a useful weapon to wield against those that would betray the group,” Henry said. “I was able to pursue my wildest theories through the group, and perform experiments that no normal psychiatrist dares dream of. The knowledge I have gained has earned me the respect of my peers, even at my young age. I have helped many patients with techniques that are so futuristic that I am forced to keep them secret, even from the patients themselves sometimes. I have given much to and gained much from the _Sol Invictus Mithras_. That is the only reason that I defied Paternoster and lived. Do you remember what happened, Daniel?”

“Yes,” Daniel shuddered. “I saw all of it. I was in the back of my mind, watching through my eyes while Alexander used my body. It was awful.”

“I'm sorry. I wish I had gotten there sooner.”

“Was Alexander right, then?” Daniel asked. “This group, the _Sol Invictus Mithras_ , sent you to retrieve me from the hospital that day, didn't they?”

“They set the entire episode up,” Henry admitted. Daniel went to speak, but he put his fingers to his lips to shush him. “Let me finish telling you all of it.”

Daniel nodded.

“Paternoster had known of Alexander von Brennenburg for a long time,” Henry explained. “He had sources keeping a close eye on the man. He heard that the situation at Brennenburg had escalated, but members of the _Sol Invictus Mithras_ arrived after the castle had fallen. You were watched when you appeared in the next village over from Altstadt. Through correspondence with his sources in Prussia, Paternoster discerned that you had survived Brennenburg. The night that you returned, you were followed. It had been the plan to drug you, but you drank yourself into such a stupor that it proved unnecessary. One of the thugs the group employs for dirty work beat you, then brought you to the hospital. I was dispatched the next day to offer you psychiatric assistance.”

“Did you know it would be me?”

“Yes, I knew.”

“Oh.”

“I was chosen to be the one to seek you out because of our past together, and I accepted because I wanted to see you again,” Henry said gently. “Everything that I told you was true, Daniel. You _were_ the first boy I ever wanted, and I _did_ fall in love with you once you were finally mine. I never intended to fall in love with you, but I truly, truly did. You must believe that.”

“You risked your life for me,” Daniel said. “When Alexander and I were sharing a mind, he looked into yours. I saw how you threatened that man, Paternoster, just to protect me. I don't have to believe you, I _know_ it's true.”

“Then, can you forgive me?”

To Henry's surprise, Daniel laughed. It was a sad, jaded sound.

“Can I forgive you?” he echoed. “Don't you remember who you're talking to? A torturer. A murderer. A coward and a selfish—selfish—”

“Brat,” Henry supplied.

“That is far too kind,” Daniel said. “Henry, of course I forgive you. No one involved in any of this has clean hands. Besides, you didn't have me locked in there, it was the—what did you call it? The _Sol Invictus Mithras_.”

“I nearly killed Paternoster for taking you from me. I would have died trying to kill him if you had been destroyed.”

“I know, I saw it all in your mind,” Daniel said. “I forgive you. In fact, I love you.”

Henry kissed him passionately. Daniel timidly returned the kiss, his mouth spicy from the gin. He laid his head on Henry's chest, and sighed tiredly. There was a peaceful lull in the conversation.

“Why did they want me?” Daniel asked after a while. “Did they think I had stolen power or knowledge from Alexander?”

“The possibility existed, but it turned out to be far more than that,” Henry said. “I told Paternoster of your state, and he realized that your communication with Alexander was more than a mad hallucination. Do you remember the device that Paternoster presented to Alexander outside the cell? Had you ever seen anything like it before?”

“Yes, I found similar devices scattered throughout Brennenburg,” Daniel said. “When I touched them, I could feel Alexander's memories.”

“Didn't you find that odd?”

“No, why should I?” Daniel asked. “I figured that they were a sort of diary, like my journal.”

“Daniel, an immortal telepathic being from another dimension has no need for a diary,” Henry said, smiling at the youth's characteristic ignorance. He patted his head to make up for the dry remark. “No, those are Memory Capsules. They record not only memories and thoughts, but preserve pieces of a being's very existence—their _soul_ , if you will. Alexander must have always known there was a chance he would be destroyed, and so he left those capsules as a link with this world. When you touched them, you brought fragments of his soul into your mind, thus preserving him. Though he was destroyed, that link must have drawn him back from the void or wherever he was.”

“But that's impossible!” Daniel said. “He was devoured by the Shadow. I saw it.”

“So long as a piece of him remains, he lives,” Henry said. “Of course, he is very weakened, which is why he needed the Orb to possess your body, and could not fight Paternoster in the end. But he lives.”

“Even now?”

“Yes, but you needn't fear him any longer,” Henry said. “Paternoster locked you away because he wanted the power of the Orb to finish linking you to Alexander. You were the bait to draw all that is left of Alexander's soul into one vessel, so that it could be captured.”

“Captured how?”

“In the Memory Capsule that Paternoster had,” Henry said. “He used the power of the Orb to draw all of Alexander's remaining energy out of your body and into a Memory Capsule.”

“Ah, like an exorcism.”

“Well … something like that.”

“So Alexander is trapped inside a Memory Capsule now?”

“Yes, under the guard of the _Sol Invictus Mithras_ itself,” Henry said. “The reason Paternoster wished to contain him was not to eliminate the threat of such a powerful being running loose in the world, but to try to exploit him for knowledge. Alexander comes from a very sophisticated race of beings that are nearly immortal, and Paternoster has been interested in their talents for a long time. I myself have an interest in their telepathic abilities … but I could never bring myself to speak with that bastard Alexander. I may not even stay with the _Sol Invictus_.”

“Alexander did let me go in the end,” Daniel pointed out. “And you shouldn't give up everything that you've gained from that group, not for me. I won't be in any danger, since I'm not useful to them anymore, right?”

“That's true, but I don't know if I can forgive Paternoster,” Henry said. “I'm not even sure I can agree with their philosophy anymore. The pursuit of knowledge at all costs is an easy thing to follow, until you've found something priceless.”

“I'm hardly priceless.”

“Must you force me to say the words? You've made me a sentimentalist,” Henry scolded. “I love you, Daniel, hence you are priceless to me.”

“Henry … ”

“Why are you surprised? I've been saying it all along, haven't I?”

Daniel's eyes gleamed and he wiped them. He smiled wearily up at him.

“Thank you.”

“I only did what I had to do,” Henry said simply. “No one, _no one_ will take you from me, Daniel.”

“I was right, then,” Daniel said. “I told Alexander that it was different this time, and it is. You may have lied to me a bit, and you are rough, but you love me. Even though I don't deserve it, you do love me, and you honestly want to protect me.”

“Yes.”

“I may have no right to ask anything more of you—”

“Go ahead, Daniel.”

“Please, just … just never lie to me again?”

The request was so plaintive that it twisted Henry's heart. He kissed the man's forehead and face soothingly. _He really does suffer beautifully,_ he could not help but note. _None of my lovers have ever_ needed _me as much as he does. So many years ago, I stood over him and watched him bleed from my blows, and hated the entire world for not allowing me to pick him up and comfort him. I hated him for being so desirable, and I hated myself for desiring him. To think that love could bloom from so much hatred and anger and useless violence. It's a thorny love, but it's love nonetheless._

“I won't lie to you again, I promise,” Henry said. “I won't ever betray you again.”

“Good. That's good.”

Daniel closed his eyes and rested in his lover's arms. _Safe. I feel safe with him. Isn't that ironic? I feel safe with Henry Bedloe, of all people. But I saw his mind through Alexander's weird power, and I saw the truth for myself: he loves me, he always has. At Paternoster's manor, he did everything in his power to protect me, and when he failed, he risked his life to rescue me. No one has ever done anything so selfless for my sake before. No man has ever loved me before, not even my father. And Henry has grown into a fine man of intelligence and strength. He even has knowledge of the Orbs and such esoteric powers! I never thought that I could admire him, but I do. I know I can be safe with him. He will protect me from anyone that would try to hurt me again … and from myself, if need be. I haven't always made the wisest decisions._

“Shall we go to bed?” Henry asked. “My legs have gone numb.”

“Yes, let's go to bed. Together.”

“I wouldn't have you anywhere else, love.”

** End of Chapter Nine **


	10. Epilogue

December 24, 1839

The cemetery was nearly empty this Christmas Eve. Though ghosts roamed through the minds of the citizens, they were too busy preparing a holiday for the living to court them. Here and there a widow came to place a winter flower on a departed partner's grave, or a widower stopped by to bid his lost wife a merry Christmas. The two men were the only ones who made the trek through the snow together.

Daniel had made great progress in his recovery over the past month. His hair was growing back in its natural brown color, slowly overtaking the white, and he was back to his normal weight. Though still pale, his face had regained some of its boyishness, and his eyes were no longer shadowed. He walked with purpose, even if Henry did have to steer him the right way now and then. Now that he was working again, he was well-dressed and handsomely groomed. At long last, he was beginning to resemble the young gentleman that had left London eight months ago.

Henry was as robust as ever. His face tended to scruffiness in the late hours, but he kept himself clean-shaven for Daniel's sake. He kept his massive frame disguised in academic attire of the finest quality, and even affected to wear spectacles to take the focus off his heavy jaw. He had reopened his practice once Daniel returned to work, and was doing as well as ever. Paternoster had not rescinded the benefits he had incurred working with the _Sol Invictus Mithras_ , and had even extended an invitation for him to join their upcoming meetings in the new year. Henry was skeptical, but Daniel was encouraging him to go. Henry was mildly annoyed that Daniel was still lured by the glamour of the esoteric, but he was loathe to give up on the _Sol Invictus Mithras_ himself.

_All that can wait for the new year,_ Henry thought. He caught Daniel by the hand and pointed out the correct lane of the cemetery to him. With a determined “right”, Daniel went on ahead again. _For now, there is one more hurtle to clear before we have a happy Christmas together._

“You haven't told me why we've come out here,” Henry said. “This is no way to spend Christmas Eve, Daniel.”

Daniel did not respond. His eyes darted about the headstones sharply. He jogged on up ahead, and came to a stop before a particular one. Henry followed him and stood by his side. They looked down at the headstone of Daniel's father in a stormy silence.

“Why have you come?” Henry asked.

“I had to see that it was real,” Daniel finally explained. “I had to see that it was actually real.”

“I see. Well, there is your answer.”

Daniel's face filled with such loathing that Henry hardly recognized him. He actually kicked the headstone.

“Good,” he spat bitterly. “Good. He's gone. He's finally gone. I'm glad.”

“If that's the way that you feel, then perhaps now is the time to tell you one last truth.”

Daniel's face changed swiftly as he looked up at Henry. Suddenly, he was as curious and guileless as ever. _Those two sides of his are dangerous,_ Henry thought. _One extreme will make you adore him, and the other will lash out at you with all the murderous rage of a child._

“I should have told you earlier, but I couldn't bring myself to while you were unwell,” Henry said. “But I promised not to lie to you, so I must get rid of this secret between us. Daniel, I was the one that killed your father.”

“Is that a joke?” Daniel asked with a laugh. “How would you have killed my father?”

“When I helped bring him to the room, we had a brief moment alone,” Henry explained. “Your mother went for the doctor, and Hazel went to you. I ordered Mandus to fetch some things to get him out of the room. I had come with the idea in mind, so I was prepared. I injected him with a certain chemical that accelerates the heartbeat. In a healthy person, it would only revivify them, but in a man already suffering an attack—well.”

Daniel gave a startled laugh. He shook his head in wonder, looked down at the headstone. When he looked at Henry again, he seemed more quizzical than anything else. Henry could not see a drop of accusation or sorrow in his eyes.

“But why would you do that?” Daniel asked. “I did hate him, but it was hardly worth your getting involved.”

“I told myself that it was to push you, so that Alexander could be drawn out and gotten rid of once and for all,” Henry said. “That was what I planned, but it wasn't the true reason. In all honesty, I hated your father.”

“Why? For beating me?” Daniel laughed. “You used to beat me yourself! Still do, if I give you reason.”

“Daniel, do you know why I never retaliated against you for bashing me with that rock?”

“I thought I had knocked you dumb, but that clearly wasn't the case,” Daniel said. “You did move away shortly after.”

“I had plenty of time to punish you for it, and I was not injured badly,” Henry said. “No, the reason was your father.”

“What?”

“He was out that day and he witnessed that fight,” Henry reminded Daniel. “When he saw you hit me, he came over, do you remember?”

“How could I forget?” Daniel glared at the headstone. “He was so furious that he cuffed me and beat me with his walking stick right there in front of everyone. But that should have pleased you, after what I'd done.”

“It didn't,” Henry said sourly. “When I saw the way that you looked at your father, I was jealous. I knew that until I was a man, you would never look at me with such awed fear and respect. It broke my spirit to see you submit so completely to someone other than me, especially just after you stopped submitting to me. The whole thing broke my spirit. I was quite depressed.”

“That _is_ perverse,” Daniel said with an amused sniff. “So you harbored a grudge all this time?”

“It wasn't only because of that day, of course,” Henry said. “I was a dumb brutish bully when I pummeled you, and your father was a grown man. There is nothing wrong with discipline, but everyone knew the kind of abuse he subjected you to. No man should kick and punch and lash a child until they bleed.”

“So even your sadism has its limits.”

“I'm not a monster,” Henry said. “I was once, but I'm not anymore.”

“No. No, you're not,” Daniel agreed. “I was raised by a monster, and I became a monster myself. You're rather a beast, but you're not a monster.”

“A beast, am I?”

“A gentleman beast.”

“That doesn't sound much better.”

They laughed. Daniel knelt down and put something on the grave. Henry knelt beside him to see what it was. It turned out to be a penny candy, ancient and grimy.

“I stole this when I was a boy,” Daniel said. “My father found out and beat me so badly that I could never bring myself to eat it. For some reason, I've kept it all these years. It was still there in my things when I returned from Prussia. I don't know why I kept it. Perhaps it was because it reminded me of my defiance. Whatever the reason, let it remind him of those horrible times for a change. If there is anything left of him, let him have those memories, and be damned! I'm done with them. I'm done with him.”

Daniel stood and brushed his gloved hands on his jacket. He took Henry's hand in his own discreetly and squeezed it. Had they not been in public, they would have kissed.

“Thank you, Henry.”

“For killing him?”

“That, and everything,” Daniel said. “I know that sounds awful, but I'm done torturing myself. I've had it. I can't change the past, and I can't suffer for it forever. I know that if I start to go wrong again, you'll reign me in, won't you?”

“With great pleasure.”

Daniel blushed attractively. His smile was sheepish.

“Then, I'll entrust myself to you,” he said. “Will that be all right?”

“Rest that exhausted mind of yours, Daniel,” Henry said. “I will take care of you, always.”

“I love you, Henry.”

He had never said the words so certainly before. Henry almost lost himself to the desire to kiss him, but managed to refrain. Instead, he took his arm in the manner of friends, and led him out of the cemetery.

A light snow began to fall as they climbed into the waiting carriage. Inside, Henry drew the curtains over the windows and pulled Daniel into a ferocious kiss. Daniel met him with equal passion, and even bit his bottom lip in his fervor. The taste of blood spread through their mouths, familiar enough to both men to be welcome.

**The End**


End file.
